


Apex of the World

by Alphariuswashere



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Slow Burn, ryuji may say fuck this one time as a treat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 78,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28463472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphariuswashere/pseuds/Alphariuswashere
Summary: From the pit to the pinnacle, a single year can see one life turn around and the course of an entire nation and the world changed.A Persona 5 Royal fanfiction, with slow burn AU elements.
Relationships: Kurusu Akira & Morgana, Kurusu Akira & Sakamoto Ryuji, Morgana & Persona 5 Protagonist, Persona 5 Protagonist & Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 24
Kudos: 29





	1. Tokyo Daylight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and this is the only time I'll have an actual author's note at the front of the text rather than the end! This space will in the future be where any head's up about content touching on the darker parts of the story will be. Suicide, deaths, grievous injuries and other relevant content warnings for the following chapter.
> 
> This story's tags are pretty minimal now, with the intent to add to them as elements come up in the story to preserve some form of spoiler control even if I'm not sure what someone is doing browsing a P5 fanfic if you aren't already sort of a fan. All safeties are off however for the notes at the end of any given chapter where I'm as likely to freely spoil my own planned future writing as I am canon content. If you don't want to risk that or care about disjointed, off the cuff rambling just skip right on by. Anything actually important will always be up here at the top. 
> 
> Updates are going to be weekly or bi-weekly, no faster unfortunately. I am several chapters in, but only get one or two good days a week for writing between full time work and other stuff in my life, so I don't want to eat up the buffer just yet. First time using Ao3 as anything besides a reader and commentator as well, so preemptive apologies for any weird editing artifacts. I'll catch and fix them as I see them.

_Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured_

Mark Twain

04/09/20XX

Saturday

Afternoon

Shibuya

_“Damn brat, I’ll sue!”_

Akira Kurusu startles back to consciousness from a nightmare as the train jostles on the track, throwing off his sleeping balance and leaving him blearily shaking off the cobwebs of sleep. He runs a quick mental inventory. Bag in lap is intact, phone in pocket not stolen, wallet right where it belongs, didn’t drool on his face while out of it. Good. Nobody staring at him either means he wasn’t talking in his unrestful sleep. 

The sun is past its zenith, but it isn’t evening just yet. A quick glance out the window opposite him in the train car confirms as well their location. Looks like in his sleep the train had made it from his last connection in the orbiting cloud of smaller cities and suburbs into Tokyo proper, with the horizon as they roll by marked by tall buildings as far as he can see. 

The big city. He’d never been anywhere larger than the sleepy town of his birth and its neighboring ‘city’ that didn’t really seem to qualify for that label when looking at images of Tokyo, Osaka, or even foreign locales. He’d seen New York City in enough movies to know that at least. It certainly looks overwhelming from where he’s sitting.

“We will be arriving in Shibuya shortly. This is the last stop for this line. Please transfer here for all subway lines.” The canned voice of a woman comes through the car’s speakers overhead, confirming what Akira already knew.

_Yeah, end of the line_. He thinks somewhat despondently to himself. The last weeks have been a whirlwind between the arrest, his expulsion, his parent’s desperate attempt to find a school that would take him in so he wouldn’t violate the continuing education terms of his probation, a second search for someone in Tokyo to house him once the former happened, and now his hastily being sent off with tight hugs and hurried goodbyes. This was the end point of that chaotic line of events, and Akira for one was more than ready to let his life slow back down and try to gain some semblance of normal. 

He tunes out a group of girls in school uniforms he doesn’t recognize ( _Which is all of them now, isn’t it?_ His sour inner voice reminds him) gossipping about something about the...occult? Mental shutdowns? Well, that’s not his problem or concern. Popping earbuds in, hitting go on whatever playlist he left on his phone when he dozed off and, tuning them out, rises to depart as the train grinds to a slow halt. He knows vaguely he needs to find the Shibuya subway station and navigate to the line to take him to Yongen-Jaya but this entire place is new to him and he doesn’t want to stick out like a rube from the sticks if he can which means navigation app up and praying it guides him right.

\-----------------------------------

Turns out getting lost wasn’t the way that would mark him as a new immigrant to the city or a tourist but his pace. Akira can’t be sure how he feels about Shibuya, not after just the one visit, but he is overwhelmed the moment he departs the train station and into the bustle of the city. There’s more people in one sweep of his eyes than Akira thinks he’s seen at once in person his whole life, except possibly during one of the festival events in his town which saw a large chunk of the populace descending on the parks in droves. But here there’s none of the festive mood accompanying that kind of event.

Instead, everyone is moving at a hurried pace or at least maneuvering with skill around the bustling suits of salarymen and students who are like a living mass operating by some unseen rules or instinct Akira can’t zero in on. Like a school of fish, almost. He’s been jostled at least three times working his way around the area and getting turned around at one street corner before he makes it to the actual multi-way crossing. Just over the heads of the crowd in front of him he sees the entrance to the underground station and the rail car on display next to it like a monument. The light changes, he prepares to cross, and a faint noise from his phone makes him halt in his tracks even as the human fish school around him surges into unitary motion.

A red and black icon, stylized as an eye, appeared on his phone and has expanded to take up half the screen away from his street navigator which...well he did finally find the station, but he’ll need it to find his temporary guardian’s house in Yongen still. A few futile swipes to get rid of it however, something else entirely bizarre filters it through his distraction. Stillness. Quiet, outside of his own music. Two things he’d not seen since getting off the train. Looking up and around, Akira confirms his fears. He’s definitely having some kind of psychotic break, or passed out and is dreaming. 

Around him, bodies frozen and still in mid step. Above him, on digital screens that leer down at the populace and normally glowing bright with advertisements in constant rotation, silent static. Unusual enough, but the world wasn’t done going off the rails for him yet. In the distance, over the frozen heads of the crowd, a blue pyre of flame shoots to the sky. Three, four, five meters off the ground it rises and for a brief instant Akira would swear it takes form. A winged figure, two arms and two legs, and a leering set of eyes and mouth of bright red-orange flame, before that shape burns away to leave him staring across the intermediate distance at himself. Dressed as he is now, eyes of a shining gold, and that leering smile of fire replicated on his own mouth as a slasher smile.

With a blink of the eye it is gone, and Akira’s pounding heart is jolted again by a businessman jostling him with his elbow as he passes. “Space out elsewhere kid, now move.” 

Akira can’t even muster the breath to object and hurries across the street, down the escalators, and into the underground.

\-----------------------

His heart is finally slowing, ducking into a bathroom to get breathing space and collect his thoughts. He runs cold water into the sink splashing himself in the face time and time and time again, not even able to break out of his head enough to realize he’s getting some sideways stares from others in and out. “Just stressed. Get yourself together.” He stares into his dripping reflection, schooling nervous eyes back to the usual even grey stare he manages, setting his mouth back to a neutral expression. Can’t do anything for his unruly hair, but he at least looks back to his usual normal.

Of course, his voice being audibly shaky to his ears is one thing he can’t control right now. “Head down, no weird shit. New school year, new start, no problems.” He takes a deep breath, dries his face with a hand towel, dons his glasses again, and sets back out from the safety of the men’s room. Back to the press of bodies, now in tube form. “Yongen-Jaya, no more delays.”

  
  


\---------------------

04/09/20XX

Saturday

Afternoon

Yongen-Jaya

_Okay, maybe some delays._ Akira couldn’t have actually predicted this one. 

Yongen-Jaya was a calmer area than Shibuya. It was still denser by far than his home, but this place felt homey in a way. Houses, smaller and a bit squeezed together than he was used to, line some streets. Down others, restaurants and businesses. A movie theater, a rooftop batting cage on top of a small grocery, somewhere he smelled fried food being cooked on the air implying an izakaya or something similar nearby, everything a little bit worn in by time but not decrepit. Merely lived in. If this was going to be his temporary home for a year, he had to count his blessings it was a more familiar feeling to his real home than the city he’d seen so far.

A bit hard to navigate as a newcomer of course, but between his phone and pointers from an older local who was tending to the front of a second hand shop Akira found his way to the closed gate in front of the small, two story Sakura residence. Which is where he has been for the last thirty five minutes after buzzing fruitlessly the first five of those minutes, at least according to his phone. Though he personally is finding it feels twice that. His music has shifted from relatively calming jazz mixes to something a bit angrier and guitar driven too, which he supposes is the one emotional outlet he’s going to be allowed for a while anyway. 

_Shipped away from home, halfway across the fucking nation, and Sojiro Sakura can’t even be there to meet me on the day I’m supposed to be arriving?_ Akira grinds his teeth and bites back on an annoyed groan, forcing emotions back down the back of his mind that want to spill out and settles for a heavy sigh. He’s not going to get anywhere but in trouble letting rage vent, so he settles in for the long wait. The man has to come home eventually. Akira settles on the ground next to the gate, closes his eyes, and tries to just enjoy the pleasant early April day for what it is.

It doesn’t last long, of course. No peaceful moment seems to, lately. There’s the sound of a vehicle on the nearby road coming to a stop, a door opening and shutting, work boots on concrete. “Hey kid, you waiting for Sakura too?” Akira cracks his eyes open and sees a man in the uniform of some local delivery service opening the back of his step van and pulling packages out onto a dolly. The man takes that as something of an affirmation, deciding to carry on. “He’s usually at his cafe around this time. Cafe Leblanc, it’s just down the road. Left at the corner, left again after the grocery store. Can’t miss it.” He points down the pedestrian only street they’re both in off to the left corner. “I have some stuff for him, but it’s just a small parcel so was going to just run it over after all these bigger ones.” He slaps the top of his package stack on the dolly. 

Akira drags himself up off the ground, dusts the grit off his ( _New, for the new exciting probation semester!_ his sour inner voice reminds him) school uniform he’d elected to make the ride in with. Less chance of sticking out if he looked like any normal student riding the subway. “Thanks, sir.” Never hurts to be polite either. Head down, no trouble. Polite, studious, quiet. That’s his future now. “I needed to see him for something important. If you want I could take…” He trails off as the man smiles but shakes his head. “Yeah, fair. Thanks.” Akira bows and makes his retreat. 

Armed now with directions, which of course couldn’t have been part of the information passed to him before he was loaded up on the train, Akira is positioned before a cafe tucked around one of the many small alleys that litter this section of Yongen. It seems nice at least, plants out front and wide wooden windows aping the style of old European streetside cafes. 800 yen for a cup seeming the right amount of steep for that kind of ambience too. _Cafe Leblanc, Coffee and Curry_ the sign above proclaims and Akira takes a steadying breath before pushing in.

It's just the same on the inside, a long well polished wooden bar, rows and rows of jarred coffee beans behind it of various types and complex looking glass and gas burner brewers, comfy looking leather stools and a trio of booths empty of all but one elderly couple engaged in conversation over something on the television perched at the far end of the bar, and the all consuming smell of roast beans and spices. The only other figure in the store is a tall, thin man with a razor sharp widow’s peak and equally sharp goatee leaning against the counter doing a crossword puzzle. Had to be the man.

"A public transit bus was driven down an opposing lane with its customers still in it. The citizens can't live in peace if this keeps up!” A talking head drones on the tv, which Akira pointedly tunes out. _Not my problem, not today._

Instead he clamps down on all the boiling nerves and weird feelings of the day with as tight a mental grip as he can muster and marches straight up to him. “Sojiro Sakura?”

“Seven down, a shellfish used in pearl farmin- Hrm?” The man glances up over his paper, apparently having entirely missed Akira’s approach. “Oh yes, that was supposed to be today wasn’t it.” He gives Akira a long up and down glance as he folds his paper and deposits it on the bar top. 

Akira wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for but straightens himself to try and look a bit more presentable. He knew he could hardly be all that imposing at the best of times, and was deliberately trying to dress and carry himself more casually to not stick out or be offputting to his new caretaker and eventual classmates next week. Tall and thin, hair a mess, eyes behind large glasses, his new school uniform wrinkled from sleeping in it on the train and his short stint on the ground outside Sakura’s place. 

“I was wondering what kind of delinquent they were going to send me, but you’re it?” Well, that hurts. Maybe.

The elderly couple take this as their sign to leave. The old man leaves a small pile of bills on the table and helps his wife up. “We see you’ve got your hands full, so we’ll be making our way out. Money’s on the table.” 

The elderly woman gives Akira a small smile as they link arms and toddle off. “Guess you don’t have to worry about any of those rampage accidents here in a back alley. See you, Sakura-san!” She seems cheerful at least even as the duo depart. 

The middle aged man’s expression passes from stern annoyance at Akira’s interruption of his crossword to confusion at that. “Rampage accidents? What brought that up?” He shrugs. “Guess that’s what I get for tuning the news out. Still though, four hours for one cup of joe.” He sighs, then the stern face is back as he turns it on Akira. “Alright, follow me. Let’s show you your room.”

\-----------------------------

_This is absolute bullshit._ Akira’s inner voice hisses at him before he crushes it back down. 

When he reaches the top of the stairs the attic space is certainly roomy but the entire place is full of clutter, dust, discarded lawn care supplies and odds and ends. A work table that looks like it came out of a garage somewhere piled high with books, a dusty sofa, rusting shelves crammed with more books, a radiating kerosene heater balanced on top of a lawnmower for some reason, there’s a lawn flamingo poking out of a trash bag, there’s a ladder that looks older than Sojiro, and can’t forget the cobwebs off the wooden rafters. The only clean things up here are a mattress sitting on what appears to be milk crates against the windows that look out on the street, and the box sent from home. 

The sight of that box hits Akira right in the gut with a knot of...tension? Regret?, which Sojiro might have just picked up on when he glances over at the teen. “You got something to say?” 

“Its…” _Filthy. Bullshit._ “Bigger than I expected. My room back home was way smaller, this is a whole loft. I just thought I’d be stuck in a tiny guest room at your house.” He lies smoothly, and if the other man catches on the pause he at least doesn’t comment on it.

“It’s yours for the year. I expect you’ll want to clean it up, the supplies for that are in the closet in the bathroom downstairs. I’ve got sheets and a comforter for the bed, I’ll bring them up later.” He crosses his arms. “Ground rule number one is don’t make too much of a racket while the cafe is open and customers are in. When we’re closed, do whatever you want but don’t make a mess and don’t take anything or you’ve got the choice of going on the street or going back to juvie. I’ll be leaving after I lock up each day, but don’t think I won’t notice if you mess around here.”

The man leans back against a shelf, filthy and covered in clutter, to observe Akira further. Akira’s not an idiot, he did the first glance downstairs and now is seeing if he’ll squirm or say anything in the messy attic that he has to clean. “I heard the gist of your case when I spoke to your parents. You intervened when a man was forcing himself on a woman, he got hurt, sued you, and now you’re expelled from your old school with a criminal record and shipped off here. That’s what you get for sticking your nose in other people’s business, getting shipped off for being a pain in the neck. Try anything like that here and it’ll be right out on the street for you. Don’t cause a ruckus for a year and your probation will be up and it’ll be back out to the country with your family.” 

Akira isn’t an idiot. He knows he’s being tested. _Don’t forget the part where everyone I knew stopped talking to me. Or the troubles it caused my parents at work. Or my sister starting to get bullied in school and almost all her friends being cut off too. Please, keep going._ He wants to spit venom at this jackass trying to lecture him for stepping in at what was pretty obviously about to turn from regular assault into sexual assault, if not a fun double crime like rape and murder. But he doesn’t. He takes a deep breath, unclenches a fist, and exhales. “No, Sakura-san. I won’t. I just want to get through the year, the same as you.” 

He passes whatever test that needling was about and gets a grudging nod out of the man. “I’m back to work then. You get cleaning, I’ll be up with bedding later. Be in bed early, we’re going to Shujin early tomorrow to introduce you to the principal and staff.”

Akira responds to that with a curt nod, already trying to assess what up here he can just toss to make space and what might be important to this man. 

“And as a final warning, don’t come bother me at my house except in case of emergencies. I’ve got a daughter who has enough going on in her life without a delinquent adding stress to it. That’s why you’re here rather than in that tiny guest room you were talking about. End of the day it’s more space, so I think you’re making out like a bandit. After all, the only rent is cleaning it and helping in the cafe if I ever trust you to do that. And for that you get a lovely open loft space all to yourself, in a quaint neighborhood with easy access right to the heart of Tokyo.” Sojiro has a sly smile at that facetious sale’s pitch. “Now get cleaning.” He descends the stairs, pausing at their bottom to open the door to the cafe’s restroom and indicating the supply closet for Akira.

_Daughter? Well why didn’t she at least answer the door when I rang and shoot me this way?_ Akira again bottles the immediate venomous reply, knowing this time it is entirely unreasonable. He’s a stranger who just decided to loiter outside, she might not even be home to have been offput by that. Saturday means early release for a lot of schools but people have social lives and friends. Sojiro Sakura had to be in his upper forties, maybe fifties. She’s probably in high school, with friends enjoying what free time there is before the weekend is swept away.

Instead, Akira grabs rags, a mop, and dusters and sets to work turning that storage space into home.

  
  


\-------------------

04/09/20XX

Saturday

Nighttime

Yongen-Jaya

Sojiro is actually impressed by how much the kid cleaned the space up when he ascends back up the stairs hours later. There’s still book heaps on shelves and the workbench, and the pile of odd lawn assortments still exists but is much reduced. The floor dust and cobwebs have been beat back by mop and broom, and there’s a faintly chemical citrus scent competing with the coffee scents from downstairs, but compared to how it was the place is immeasurably improved. Not that he’d let the delinquent know that. Sojiro schools his faint smile back down as he tosses the folded armful of sheets and a comforter onto the bed. “Guess your rattling around up here actually was cleaning, though it only makes sense you’d want to keep your own room cleaner than it was.” 

The kid stands in the corner of the room, trying to keep his expression neutral, but Sojiro didn’t start his life running a cafe, and some instincts you don’t really lose. He sees that small twitch of controlled anger, and the eyes casting down at the backhanded praise. He’s a quiet one, but there’s a lot of anger in there. Sojiro feels more confident in his call to keep the boy away from Futaba, even though he’s beginning to get a picture of where that anger in the kid might be coming from. He certainly didn’t miss the clenched fist when he was poking at the raw wound of being arrested and convicted for stopping something much worse.

“I’m out for the night. There’s a plate of curry and rice with your name on it at the counter, but you should probably sleep after that. Tomorrow’s going to be early.” He produces a small card from his pocket and puts it on the long table that sits alongside the railing above the stairwell. “Also, this is a member’s card for the baths across the street. The bathroom here obviously hasn’t got a shower, and can’t have an unwashed teenage boy stinking up my shop. Part of the money I was sent for taking care of you paid for it, so use it. And call your parents, I already got an anxious text from your mother wondering if you made it alive.” He gives a final annoyed huff and departs without another word, leaving the slightly dusty Akira to stare in the blank space he was in moments before.

It hadn’t even occurred to him to check in after the weird emotional rollercoaster of that day. His phone is in hand before he thinks….but he isn’t just ready yet to talk. Instead he taps into the messenger app, idly noting that the weird eye icon app is still on his phone. _Need to delete that later._

++Family Chat++

AK: Hey guys. I made it alive. Sorry for not calling, it’s been a hell of a day. I just want to eat, get a bath, and collapse.

MK: You should have thought to text before I had to check in with Sakura-san that you even made it alive!

SK: What your mother said, but glad you made it intact. How is Tokyo?

AK: Big.

RK: Wow, how descriptive of you

AK: Very big? It was a lot to take in, and I mostly was focusing on getting to Sakura-san’s house.

MK: Rin press your brother for the tourism stuff later, after he’s settled in.

AK: I’m fine though. Just spent all afternoon cleaning.

SK: Sojiro did mention he was putting you up in the loft over the cafe when we spoke earlier. Any issue with it not being his house? Bigger than your room at home?

AK: Much. And a mess. Its fine though. I’m fine. I just need to eat, bathe, and sleep in that order.

RK: You will take all the pictures for me, bro.

AK: Fine, that too. Just not right now. I’m out. I promise I’ll call this week.

He pockets the phone, wearily descending to see about that curry which had been tormenting him all afternoon with its smell. Then that bathhouse across the way, definitely. He was going to soak, Akira decided. And then sleep like a rock.

There’s a large sticky note waiting for him by the plate of curry and rice on the counter. _You can go out from the cafe and across the street and straight back. No wandering Yongen yet. And don’t forget to lock up behind you._

Fine. Curry, soak, door lock, sleep. Not like he would have gone wandering anyway.

And as he settled in on his mattress after that, warm and tied, perched on its frame of _milk crates_ , he remembered one last thing to do. That creepy red and black eye app. Right into the trash, definitely not brooding on the arrest tonight with a full belly and lingering warmth from the baths, and Akira falls into a comfortable and mostly dreamless slumber.

At least at first, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You never realize how much you can write with a character as up in their own head as Akira is at this point in the story. Speaking as the one writing this, I'm glad I'm past his awakening scene and he has someone else to interact with now because this sad, angry boy needs a friend badly and to do something active with that anger rather than marinate in it.
> 
> I was going to get a few more chapters written in the buffer before I published anything, but given its a P5R fic specifically it seemed somehow appropriate to put its first chapter out on New Year's eve.


	2. Velvet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira has a weird, totally meaningless dream and a wonderful time meeting the friendly school staff.
> 
> Or the exact opposite of that. Yes, that one!

04/09/20XX

Saturday

Nighttime

????

The sound of dripping water and the clink of chains make his eyes snap open, staring straight up into the blue gray brick ceiling of a room that was not his attic, but very much a prison cell. 

He shoots upright, every memory of his time in solitary after his arrest cycling through his brain all at once as he tries to take in the sight before him. The walls are padded, blue velvet stretched out with its internal stuffing. He’s chained, hand and foot, and his ankle is locked to a heavy iron ball. So far, so bad. The memories of being back in solitary, after his arrest are beating against his conscious mind and the tension in his jaw feels like it will crack teeth.

There’s a giggle, childish and out of place with this Akira’s eyes dart to the door to his cell, taking in the sight of what lies beyond it and with his half awake brain being scrambled by adrenaline barely processing the…thing that sits before him. His cell is one of many in an old school panopticon, with an ancient and worn wooden desk sitting in the center of the room facing his cell directly. At the locked bars of his cell, two little girls in matching blue uniforms stand watch. Identical white hair, identical uniforms and caps, and each possessed of a single impossibly glowing golden eye and mirroring eye patches. Akira wishes he could call them the weirdest thing here as he struggles upright and drags his ball and chain to lean on the bars of his cell, but that would be doing the man seated at the desk a disservice.

“Trickster, welcome to my Velvet Room…” A baritone voices intones, a voice that seems to vibrate out of the stone itself, which tracks in Akira’s mind because that thing seated in the chair cannot possibly be speaking. You could call it a bald old man with a suit that went out of fashion in 1882, but that would be discounting its impossibly thin limbs, long spiderlike fingers, pointed nose the length and curve of an average banana, rictus smile showing too many teeth, and of course bulging bloodshot eyes that give his head a character not unlike a chameleon.

The voice came from that thing, but he can’t see how. Its lips aren’t moving right, pulled back into that grin, its teeth barely separate. _How are you even talking?!_

“I am truly delighted to make your acquaintance. This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter. I am Igor, master of this place.” It continues, impossibly speaking.

One of the two little girls, the one with her hair in two small buns rather than a neat braid slams a nightstick against the bars, making Akira flinch back. “So stand up straight, inmate!” Sharp voice, intense. 

The other girl, holding a clipboard in hand, speaks much more calmly and with a quiet reserve that makes her seem considerably older than...six? Seven? _Small_ he settles on. “What that means is that the you in reality is fast asleep. You are here experiencing this only as a dream.”

Well, that makes as much sense as anything else. Akira decides this is just a weirdly chatty nightmare and takes a deep breath. The air here is stale, a bit moist, and has an edge of decay to it. Well, at least his subconscious provides good set dressing. “So what is it you want from me, Igor?”

That gets a low chuckle. “I have brought you here, Trickster, to discuss important matters.” The laughter goes on. “Only one bound by a contract may enter, and the state of this room reflects the state of your own heart. To think that would appear as a prison...” Akira’s heart sinks. A prison of his own heart? Sure, feels about right. “There is no doubt ruin awaits you if you continue on your present course.” The creature declares with absolute portentous gravitas.

That makes something in him crack. Akira actually laughs at that, a strained and harsh thing powered more by tension than humor. Ruin? The overtly ominous tone broke his composure, and though he gets himself back under control it takes a few long seconds. “Well.” He tries to start and gives a final snort. “We can’t be having ruin, can we?”

Which is when the angry child with the nightstick slams it across his fingers wrapped around the cell’s bars. “Show some respect, inmate!” She snaps, barely comprehended through the sharp pain distracting him.

“Enough, Caroline.” The long nosed gremlin rumbles and the girl snaps back to attention with a tiny _hmph_ of disdain. “In my eagerness I have forgotten to introduce my assistants and your wardens. To your right is Caroline. To your left, Justine.”

Caroline, the angry one, puffs herself up to all four feet (hat included) with self importance, while the sedate Justine offers a tiny bow to Akira. “We are your wardens, responsible for your safety. But we are also your collaborators, on your path to rehabilitation.” 

“Yes, how wonderfully put!” Igor’s rictus smile broadens. “To oppose ruin, Trickster, you must be rehabilitated. Rehabilitated towards freedom!”

_Well if my true heart is twisted into a jail cell now, good luck with that you creepy imp._ Akira at least has the wisdom to not say that out loud. Not with his fingers still stinging from the last time he offered rudeness at least.

“We of the Velvet Room will stand ready to assist in that process, each in our own ways. To help you master the power of Persona. But alas, the night is waning! We shall meet again, soon, but for now take your time to come to understand your situation and this place.” Another rumbling chuckle, but this time intermixed with a distant ringing of bells and-

Akira wakes as he falls off the side of his bed, faceplanting hard into the wooden flooring. There’s a distant sound of footsteps coming up to his attic, and he hears Sojiro’s voice vaguely. “Ah, good you’re waking up. Get dressed and get ready to go. We’ve got a meeting at your school to get to.”

The younger man emits a small groan but diligently begins to disentangle himself from his sheets, the bizarre dream with the baritone imp and the lolita prison wardens already being relegated to whatever corner of his brain decided to bundle up guilt, psycho-sexual shit, and surrealism. “Got it, Sakura-san. Just...gimme a few.”

\----------------------------------------

04/10/20XX

Sunday

Morning

Aoyama District

Shujin Academy, all things considered, could be viewed as a step up for him. Situated in the Aoyama district (“It’s a hassle to get there on the trains, but today is the one day we’re driving. You’re taking the subway after this!” Sakura brusquely informed him when Akira looked at the map on his phone), it does smack of the elite college prep nature he’d been informed of. Two small classroom buildings wedged between soaring office buildings, nice courtyard, main entrance hall displaying a huge array of trophies from academic and sports competitions. On a surface glance, it seems nice. Hell, the track and volleyball teams seem to dominate the trophies. Akira used to be in his school’s soccer club, but he could have been tempted to join an elite track program. He enjoyed running, wasn’t averse to putting in work, and might be a good way to make friends as a transfer student.

Meeting the Principal, a sweating lump of fat, disabused him of the notion he’d be given a fair chance at anything this year though. By way of introducing himself in his cramped office the bastard launches into a prepared spiel about how he’s on thin ice from the get go, how if he causes any problems he’ll be thrown out, the works. Not like Akira hasn’t heard about the same thing from Sojiro already.

“I hope you understand, we have the reputation of our school to consider…” Principal Kobayakawa sleezes out. 

“And I can’t protect him if anything happens, is that what you said?” This is the part that galls Akira, though. The woman with Kobayakawa, a tired eyed young woman who is his assigned homeroom teacher isn’t even making a tiny effort to be welcoming or encouraging. He didn’t expect any allies here, but doing the bare minimum of your job as an educator is too hard? “Here, your student ID.” She ruffles through the pockets of her jean skirt and drops the card on the desk between them. And some pink flyer which she is quick to snap back up herself. _Not my problem, not today._ Akira pointedly ignores whatever she was so embarrassed about.

“I’m Sadayo Kawakami and I’ll be handling your homeroom for the year. When you get here tomorrow, meet me in the faculty office so I can introduce you to the class. We rotate teachers rather than students here, so you’ll be spending a lot of time with them. Try not to cause any problems, alright?” She drones on, exhaustion evident in her eyes and annoyed apathy in her tone.

All that gets is a polite nod. And then the real twist of the knife about this: She decides to actively complain about getting him in her class. To the principal. In front of him. This is the literal opposite of...what professional decorum? The role of a teacher as an encouraging force to their students? Whatever it is, she’s not winning teacher of the year award from Akira any time soon. 

“I still don’t get why I have to take this kid in _my_ class…” She sighs.

“It was a sudden transfer, and yours was the only class with an opening.” The lump Kobayakawa gives a shrug. And that’s when, possibly sensing just how demeaning this is becoming for him, Sojiro Sakura decides to step in and end the scene. Akira could hug the man, at that point.

“Look, I have a cafe to run. If you’re done covering everything the kid needs to hear, we need to get going.” He crosses his arms, sharp white suit and hat making him look like a specter of jazz clubs past and future. 

“Of course, Sakura-san. But please, keep a close eye on him.” The principal dismisses the group and Akira feels his soul slightly relax as he and Sojiro leave the office space. With that they depart.

\-------------------------

04/10/20XX

Sunday

Late Morning

Tokyo Streets

The car idles, trapped in gridlock somewhere out of the Aoyama district but not out of Minato itself. He thinks. Akira has been trying to learn the Tokyo sprawl’s many sub cities and routes by studying his phone’s navigation app while in motion, but it is still all very confusing to him. He misses home desperately at this moment, where it at least felt like he knew all the little ways around it.

“So…” Sojiro taps his fingers on the leather wrapped wheel of the classic, cream yellow VW Beetle. Akira has to admit, the guy has a distinctive retro style to his shop, his lean frame with that white suit, and his car that kind of works for him. “That was the school. Think you’ll be able to make it a year there? Still can’t believe they were treating you like that in the open. She calls herself a teacher? Word of advice, don’t ever work a job that breaks you as thoroughly as that.”

Akira fights back a small smile, glad that his guess about the older man’s save in the office was right, and feeling a twinge of sympathy for his incredibly rude teacher. A small one, but a twinge all the same. “I think I’ll scrape by, yeah.”

Sojiro shoots him a sharp look, but doesn’t say anything as the radio station they’re listening to is interrupted by a news brief about the ungodly traffic they’re stuck in. “...due to the accident on the subway lines, expect delays….” 

Sojiro just sighs at that. “Another one?”

“Another what?” Akira glances across the cramped car space. “There was something about a bus incident on the news when I showed up at Leblanc yesterday, but I was trying to just focus on you.”

“Another accident. There’s been a whole series of them, but this sounds like the worst one yet.” Sojiro rolls the window on his side down, produces a cigarette and has it lit before Akira can even think of a way to politely protest. “Just drivers going nuts, plowing into people or other vehicles.” He blows out a smoke cloud. “There was actually one near Yongen just a week or two back. A girl died as I hear it, just a bit younger than you. I can’t imagine what her parents must be going through...” Another long drag as the car inches forwards. “You’re taking the train starting tomorrow, but get up early in case this accident is still impacting things then. Got it?”

He gets a terse nod back, even though Akira’s confidence in public transit is rapidly sinking as he thinks about whatever train accident could cause such disruption on car traffic going into Shibuya. He has his phone out already and is looking up the details on what happened, and is not liking what he’s seeing. A train blowing through one station derailing off the tracks in another? At least fifty hospitalized, numbers going up steadily? 

“Don’t let it get to you, kid. It’s like a plane crash, rare as hell but notable for how bad it seems. Tomorrow you’ll get up, have some curry, and make it to school fine. And you will make it to school, or else it’s out on your ass or back to juvie. Got it?” Sojiro watches Akira’s falling expression from the corner of his eyes. “And that reminds me, part of your probation is reporting by me to your parole officer. I’ve got a blank journal for you back at the cafe, we’ll be expecting you to fill it with at least the notes of what you get up to most days. Any problem with that?”  
  


Akira has some very definite problems but takes a moment to compose himself. He’s being unreasonable, he’s just scared and off kilter from everything happening. Taking a step back to look at the situation at emotional remove….“None, if you don’t mind being bored by lots of identical entries. I...know that I’m in a bad situation. I don’t intend to make any waves. I know that you’re already sticking your neck out for a stranger, taking me in while you already have your own family to stress about. I won’t ask why, but thank you.”

That was definitely the longest he’d spoken at once since he arrived and Sojiro’s expression shows the man noticed, eyebrow quirking up ever so slightly. “It was nothing. I was asked and just...happened to agree, so here we are. You keep your nose clean for a year and you’ll be in the clear. But…” He takes another long drag on the cigarette in hand and expels the smoke out the window. “You don’t have to resign yourself to a hell of boredom either. Nobody is going to spread your record at school so try and make friends or at least join a study group or club. Keep your grades up, maybe make use of the fact you’re in a new city for a year. There’s plenty to see and do around Tokyo’s sprawl. You can get a part time job to get money to play tourist if I like how you behave this first month.”

Akira nods but doesn’t quite believe. “Yeah, maybe.” But still, he feels an underlying sort of kindness under Sojiro Sakura’s gruff exterior. Maybe the older man is right, and he could carve a sort of normal life out here. All he has to do is manage a few weeks coasting under the radar, studying and maybe talking to other students. Live an honest student life. Maybe there’s some kind of music club at the school, or that track team even. 

He allows himself a tiny, genuine smile at that faint tug of hope.

\------------------------------

04/11/20XX

Monday

Morning

Aoyama District

Akira tried. He really did. 

Wake up early. Dress in the dark, groom his naturally frizzy hair as best he can in the bathroom while Sojiro is doing pre-opening work in the cafe. Plate of curry and cup of perfectly brewed coffee down the hatch, as weird as a breakfast option as that might be. Out the door with time to spare. Train to Shibuya, follow the signs for transfer to the Ginza line that’ll take him to Aoyama-Itchome station as the sun rises to light the world from behind the heavy gray clouds and he is still making great time.

It wasn’t...well it wasn’t not his fault he’d forgotten an umbrella at Leblanc, but he wasn’t ready to admit his perfect first day of school morning was being derailed by his own hand. Leaving the station and leisurely walking in the direction of Shujin Academy, he’d felt he might even beat Kawakami to the school and show the teacher up slightly after that asshole display from her the day before. Not venting venom directly, but still he wanted to show he wasn’t a delinquent. Instead the skies opened up and in the name of not wanting to look like a drowned rat he ducked under the cover of some closed boutique shop along the way. Sharing the space with another student, a girl with a white hoodie pulled over the black and red Shujin uniform and hood up.

_Don’t be weird. Say something. Say hello._ Akira’s screams internaly at himself as she takes note of his presence, reaching up to pull the hood back down. Blonde. Blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Partly foreign then, and with a face like an angel framed by cascading blonde twintails. _SAY SOMETHING. SAY SOMETHING. DON’T BE WEIRD. YOU’RE NEW, INTRODUCE YOURSELF. SAY ANYTHING._ He still can’t get words up, too many days of practicing silence running right into a pretty girl smiling at him. Right until they break through, tumbling in an awkward torrent. 

“Hey, I’m new, a transfer stu-”

“I don’t know you, I think. Are you-”

They start at once, the awkward moment of talking over one another leaving them back to silence. Akira tries one more time to get words out and not come across as a completely weird guy to a new classmate. 

And is immediately interrupted by a honk of a car horn the moment he tries opening his mouth again. A sedan pulled up next to them on the street while he was having an internal crisis and a powerfully built man with a jawline Akira can hardly believe is leaning out of the window. “You’ll be late if you hang out here too long. Want a ride?” A teacher then? The girl nods, with a moment of hesitation, and marches from the sidewalk to the passenger side of the ride. “How about you?” The lantern jaw turns its attention to him, and something in Akira immediately decides to not get involved. He can’t pin down what, but a weird feeling is a weird feeling.

Begging off with a silent shake of his head the man shrugs, rolls his window up, and the car hits the road. _That was weird. And I still didn’t say a full sentence to that girl. Like an absolute creep._ Well, whatever. Self flagellation over ruining his fresh start at school later. He still needed to suck it up and get to the school. He has his earbuds in hand and was about to insulate himself to the outside world and its distractions (and rain) with music when the sound of feet slapping on pavement gives him pause. 

Another student, in a...well technically he’s in the Shujin uniform but that bright yellow shirt isn’t the official white turtleneck that goes under the jacket, his jacket is unbuttoned, and the pant suspenders are off his shoulders. “Stop...argh! Damn that perv teacher!” He kicks the ground.

“...Perverted teacher?” Suddenly letting that girl go alone is feeling like a less than good move. Akira lowers his hand with the bud in it, unhearing as his phone gives a chirp of recognition. Unseeing as a familiar red and black eye appears on the screen of his phone. 

The other student gives Akira a furious glare. He’s bleach blonde too, clearly working hard on that delinquent look that Akira is trying so hard to dodge. Horrible posture too, especially for a young guy, he’s got to be almost as tall as Akira but is slouching and favoring one leg pretty firmly. “What? You plan on ratting me out to Kamoshida?”

“...Kamoshida?” Another unheard chirp from his phone.

“Yeah. Don’t tell me you didn’t catch who that was? Acting like he’s the king of the castle, creeping on girls…”

Akira is beginning to get frustrated. “King of _what_ castle? Is that blonde girl going to be okay?”

“Shujin! You’re wearing the same uniform as me, don’t tell me you don’t know who that guy is.” The blonde punk peers at Akira, settling on the silver roman numeral II pinned on his uniform. “You’re the same year as me too, but I don’t recognize you…”

“I’m a transfer student. First day at Shujin is today. Can you tell me what you’re yelling about now?” Another unheard beep from the phone. 

In the next few days, it was this moment that Akira would recognize as where things went to hell for the first time. At the moment though, all he feels is an inexplicable wave of dizziness and a small pulse of pain in his skull like the aftermath of walking into a column. And he wasn’t the only one, the vulgar blonde guy shaking his head like he’s trying to clear his inner ear of something.

“Ugh...look man.” The guy rallies a bit. “It’s a lot of crap to cover and we can talk about it later if you want, but we need to get going if we don’t want to run late. Here, follow me. There’s a shortcut in an alley this way…” He starts off ahead of Akira, turning back when he hears that he isn’t being followed. “Dude, come on. You don’t want to be late on the first day you’re here, yeah?”

Well, hard to argue there. Akira pockets his phone without looking further at it and follows the blonde guy. No use getting lost in music when that might mean actually getting lost.

\-----------------

04/11/20XX

Morning

Shujin Academy???

Aoyama District???

Well, at least except for this part. The aggressive blonde kid and Akira are standing at the far end of the alley maze they traveled through and at an absolute loss for where the hell they were. Sure, the concrete sign off to the right firmly declared ‘Shujin Academy’. And sure, they couldn’t be that far off course, the alley shortcut mostly seeming to cut them through the center of a city block to avoid having to loop two street corners to get here. 

But they were not standing in front of the school Akira recalled from yesterday. Instead, under a blackened sky, a far cry from the heavy gray rain clouds of ten minutes back, a black sky pulsing with crimson light for that matter!, he and the other student were gawking like idiots up at a castle. Turrets, curtain wall, central keep and all. A gigantic European style castle. 

“This...this is weird.” The other boy mutters to himself. “Come on man, let’s go in and see what the hell this is about.” He takes off for the drawbridge laying across the moat and connecting this castle to a perfectly mundane asphalt street. “You coming or what?”

“....Yeah, sure.” Against his own best judgment, Akira sets his feet into motion to follow the other student. He doesn’t have any idea what the hell is happening, and every instinct in his body is screaming to back off and keep his head down for the school semester, but the premises here changing like this certainly warrants someone checking it out. Right? And so he marches across the bridge with the blonde, hoping something swiftly starts to make more sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did add one more chapter to my buffer today, making good use of the very end of my vacation, so I figured I'd post the next one I have edited and good to go!
> 
> How much faffing about can one man do before getting to the actual meat of anything? At least two chapters worth apparently. One thing I'm finding hard to strike a balance with, especially so early on, is how much to keep basically the same but just let Akira stew on it mentally and where to actually make shifts or scene cuts and fusions for expediency and better narrative flow. Or introduce new bits, if I'm feeling saucy. The actual in game story is so laser focused at this point compared to later where it opens up and becomes more loose.
> 
> That is of course ignoring changes that are made for no reason besides whim. Like some of the small ones, such as the fact I introduced the knowledge Futaba even exists earlier, are meant to be useful to changes down the line for me. Some are because a scene is maybe better in a game than in a text (tutorials, yaaaaay) and some will be literally for no reason besides whims or fits of pique. For those I offer no apologies or justifications. They are what they are. Stupid, and entirely on me.
> 
> (Seriously, cat, you want to talk to me in the voice of Taiga and Sothis for a couple hours and get all upset when I guess you're a girl? Welcome to my universe now!)


	3. Dungeons and Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira enjoys the castle's hospitality and meets a king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning in this chapter for violence

04/11/20XX

Monday

????

????

Mistakes were made. Akira is pretty sure of that as he swims back to consciousness from a hazy void of darkness and pain. What mistakes? A good question, but his head pounds with pain and he feels like someone slapped him across the back with a baseball bat a couple of times. Bad mistakes, he supposes.

“Hey, you awake? Are you alright, man?”

Akira blearily opens his eyes at that, wincing as he sits upright on a mildewed and bare wooden bedframe with a heap of thin straw trying to pass as its mattress. His head is pounding, his body aches, and a ginger touch to the side of his heads comes back with sticky, drying blood. “I will be. You?” He looks the other student over, noticing the blonde is looking disheveled and like he was rolled through dirt. Blood coats one hand too, trailing down from a gash torn into his sleeve. And this room...another cell. Akira keeps finding himself in them, apparently. Walls of rough stone, cobbled floor, ominous iron chains hanging from the walls with manacles open and begging for use. Their school bags were just tossed in a corner, forgotten by whoever put them here.

“Yeah, pretty much. What the hell was that though?” The guy rolls his arms and almost entirely buries the wince as he moves his injured arm. “Come on, we have to get out of here. Wherever...here is. What is this place, some kind of movie set?” He glances around, eyes lingering on the chains on the walls for a long hard moment. As if on cue, there’s a horrifying scream of pain echoing from outside their cell.

That is about all the punk seems willing to take, and with an absolute abundance of tact and careful planning he marches over to the iron bars at the front of their shared cell, grabs hold, and starts yelling for anyone who can hear them to come and let them out right this instant.

What the hell was that? Great question really. Akira struggles to his feet against the pounding of his head and tries to put memories in order. The blonde has clearly been up longer, or just took less head trauma. They were going to school, found the school, school was a castle on the outside…

_And then we went in like absolute idiots_. Ah yes, there’s his inner voice of self loathing. That’s where he is fighting against a fuzzy darkness, but as he moves and forces his limbs into action that darkness is fading. It was a castle inside and out, the main hall being a grandiose affair with huge hanging chandeliers burning candles, black and white tiled floor, and soaring stone columns. And knights. Masked identically, armored figures damn near seven foot tall armed with sword and spear. Who surrounded them while they were gawking and-

Akira reaches a hand up once more to his bloodied head. One of them got the other guy with a slam from a tower shield as big as he was, and one hit Akira right across the face with something hard and his world went black. Only to wake up here, at least.

“Hey! Let us out! I know there’s someone out there!” The blonde kid’s shouting and bar rattling knocks Akira out of his reverie. It got louder if at all possible. “You! Yeah, you! I see you! Let us out!” 

An armored knight marches up to the door, and it isn’t any better in the flesh than memories. The thing is enormous, taller than any man, armored in heavy plate with a green mask in place of a face, and leads a column of identical warriors and...something very pink in the middle. The empty eye holes bore down on them both and outside the cell even more join it. “Rejoice, prisoners, for your fate has been decided upon. Your charge is unlawful entry. Your sentence is death.” With a jingle of keys the door swings open and the blonde is thrown back. 

“After all, nobody is allowed to do as they please in _my_ castle.” As the armored knights file in, pushing Akira and the other one back with shields, a human figure appears. Tall and powerfully built the lantern jawed teacher from earlier follows the knights in, to complete the surreal tableau. He’s different though, dressed up in a pink furred cloak draped over his shoulders and given his visible legs below it implying scandalous things about what he’s wearing beneath. And let’s not forget the tiny crown on his head, positioned just off center at what is supposed to be a jaunty or rakish angle. And capping it all off, his eyes that were brown earlier that morning are a glowing gold.

Those eyes are what make Akira’s blood run cold. This person can dress like a caricature of a king in his goofy ass cape, but the absolute inhumanity of that shining gold sucks out any humor Akira would have found in it. _Just like the twin wardens from the dream_. He clenches a fist and feels his heart sink.

The punk however is a lot less enraptured than Akira is. “That you Kamoshida? The hell is with this place? And what’s with that stupid cape? Really running with the king of the castle loo-” He’s cut short by one of the knights slamming an armored fist the size of a small animal into his chest, 

“Silence, prisoner!”

The king chuckles to himself. “Ah, of course it would be you Sakamoto. And you brought a friend too! I guess breaking your leg once wasn’t enough to teach you the price for disobeying the king.”

The blonde ( _Sakamoto? Yeah, Sakamoto_ ) wheezes and struggles up to his knees on the hard floor. “S-shut up, you prick. What even is-” And that gets him a swift kick in the ribs. And gives Akira a perfect view from where the guards have corralled him against the wall of Kamoshida’s luridly pink underwear, the only thing the golden eyed king had on under that robe. _Thanks for that one, eyes._ He winces.

“You really don’t get the situation you’re in, do you? Break into my castle, insult the king to his face…” He shakes his head, giving a melodramatic sigh. “Well let’s get this execution going.” He reaches down and drags Sakamoto to his feet by his shirt. “We’re going to take our time with this. Guards, hold his friend in place. We’ll get to the other peasant after we finish with this ape.” Gold eyes glimmer with a sadistic glee as he raises his free hand.

“Dude, run!” Sakomoto wheezes out. “Get out of he-AARH!” Kamoshida goes to town on the blonde with his fists. There’s no art to it, or really any fight. Just intended to inflict pain across the body. Guards move in on Akira, pinning him against the wall with iron hands on either shoulder and a sword leveled at his heart as a threat if he tries to slip away.

Akira wasn’t going anywhere though, his eyes locked on the adult, the _teacher_ supposedly, who was working the student over and he felt like spitting venom. Unfortunately, watching is about the only option he has available. These giants in armor have him pinned, that sword is very real and something he has to weigh if he wants to do anything. And what can he do? He struggles, trying to force the iron grips on him to waver even slightly but they hold like a vise. These masked warriors were exactly as strong as you’d think they had to be with all that armor and swords that had to be longer than he was tall. He could do nothing…

But even still he couldn’t take his eyes off the beating and his desperate desire to do something to help the guy. _There has to be something here. Think you stupid asshole, think, think, THINK!_ Kamoshida, apparently growing bored with his savaging tosses Sakamoto to the floor.

“Worthless pest.” He spits on the prone figure as one final insult. “Kill him.” He nods at one of the knights he left flanking the door who steps forward with its gigantic blade raised.

“Stop it! Are you out of your mind?! You’re a teacher, aren’t you?!” The words are out of Akira’s mouth before he can stop himself and both knight and king pause. The barely dressed king stalks over to him, simmering.

“What? Are you seriously telling me you don’t know who I am?” He leans in and Akira can smell wine and something less familiar on his breath. Nothing good. Instead of a reply, the king gets a glare back. “Hmph. Arrogant brat.” He lashes out, fist hammering like a piston into Akira’s gut, driving air from his lungs and blinding him for a heartbeat with pain. He sags in the grip of the two knights. “After the ape, this one dies.”

“N-no, I don’t want to die…” Sakomoto weakly tries to push himself up from the floor but his arm gives out, flopping him back onto the hard stone.

So caught up in what was happening in front of him and reeling from the blow, he doesn’t notice the faintly glowing blue-white butterfly until it was almost upon him. Fluttering between him and the center of the three knights who had him slammed against the wall, the sword-to-gut-man, the thing shimmers as it flaps its delicate velvet blue wings. For a brief few seconds, Akira loses focus on the ongoing violence in the background, and is entirely enraptured with the creature.

He could swear he hears it speaking, like a young woman whispering to him across a crowded room. Only the tiniest scraps of words make it to him. Whatever she is trying to say might as well have been a dream inside a dream, vanishing as soon as it touched him. Still, the butterfly is comforting. An odd thought in this nightmare he’s trapped in, but true all the same.

The nightmare reasserts itself almost immediately though. As the butterfly flutters away, over the guard’s shoulder his gaze is drawn to his own reflection in its dark, polished blue steel plate. His reflection that stares back at him with the same glowing gold eyes Kamoshida has, that the vision he had at the Shibuya Crossing had. And then, though he doesn’t move his jaw a sliver, his reflection gives him that same menacing smile as before. Opens its mouth. And speaks to him in his own voice, or at least his own voice if his already deep voice managed to drop another half octave.

**“What’s the matter? Are you simply going to watch?”** Then his reflection moves without his own action, the distorted body in the armor mirror somehow slipping out of the knight’s grips. It gestures behind it with one hand, where looking up and over the shoulder Akira sees Kamoshida stalking after Sakomoto, crawling weakly away on his elbows. A heel comes down on the other boy’s knee, eliciting a wet shriek of pain that even the beating didn’t drag out of him. Momentum halted, the executioner knight saunters up. **“Are you forsaking him to save yourself?”** In the background, the executioner raises its blade. **“Death awaits him if you do nothing.”** The golden eyed clone leans forward and somehow he’s no longer a reflection. He’s before him, identical hand wrapping around Akira’s collar. He even has the same calluses on his fingers, a real twin. Nobody notices. Nobody does anything. In fact nobody moves. It is just like Shibuya all over again, the air becoming thick and stagnant as the world grinds to a halt. **“Was your previous decision a mistake then?”**

_“Help! Please, help!”_

_“Get the hell out of here kid, this ain’t a peep show…”_

_“Damn brat, I’ll sue!”_

_The echoing sound of sirens, handcuffs on wrists, being hauled off to sit in a jail cell for hours..._

That sparks a white hot indignation in Akira. Wrong? No! If he’d done nothing then that woman would have been raped. If he does nothing now that sword is going to fall down and Sakomoto is going to die. “Like hell it was!” He snarls in his reflection’s face. 

**“Very well.”** The clone’s slasher smile for a moment morphs into a genuine one and the hand wrapped around Akira’s neck loosens. **“I have heeded your resolve, and now…”** The figure fades away, from a physical presence back to Akira’s reflection in the still guard before time resumes. Over the shoulder of the soldier before him, a sword raises high. **“Vow to me!”**

The pained scream Akira let out was enough to make both the king and knight pause and turn his way. At those last words from his specter, pain like he’d never before felt pulsed over him. It felt like he was having nails driven into his skull and down his spine, then being agonizingly removed. It felt like the worst migraine of all time. His heart pounds in his chest like a jackhammer and blood roars in his ears and he screams and writhes in the hands of the guards. Tears and spittle both flowed out as his body decided to rebel against him.

Akira Kurusu was pretty sure he was dying.

**“I am thou, thou art I!”** His vanished double’s voice roars, cutting through his own screams and the roaring in his ears. **“Thou who art willing to perform all sacrilegious acts for thine own justice! Call upon my name and unleash thy rage!”**

Rage? What rage? There was too much pain for that. 

**“Show the strength of thy will to ascertain all on thy own, though thou be chained to Hell itself!”**

“Enough delays! Execute the ape!” Kamoshida’s voice cuts through the pain, the screaming, and the booming voice of his other self. 

And like a switch, the pain stops. All Akira felt then was the seething anger that he’d spent so much time on controlling, shoving down, muffling since his arrest. “I said enough!”

“Wow, looks like you really want to go first then?” Kamoshida mocks. “First your little screaming fit, now back to insults? Very well then. Guards, execute the other thief first.” The king leisurely waves a hand his way and the next thing Akira knows is the one holding his left shoulder gives a devastating right cross with a mailed fist across his face.

It had been such a nice five seconds without agonizing head pain. He’s seeing stars and his glasses clatter to the ground. He can hear one of the lenses break, a faint clatter of glass on stone.

_Call my name._

Akira feels, rather than hears, the voice of his other self one more time. A violent gust of wind tears through the cell, its origin unknown to him but to the others? Blowing out and away from him, the guards are staggered back and even the king at some more remove braces himself. Sakomoto is blasted back against the stone wall, the crack of his back against the stone just another injury in his new collection.

In place of his glasses, something else appeared on Akira’s face, manifesting out of thin air. He can’t see what it is, but probing with his fingers reveals the hard edges of some kind of...mask? Not quite a domino mask but close enough. It’s stuck on. Stuck on and not coming off with a gentle tug.

Where it touches his skin, Akira is burning. It starts as an itch, but in moments progresses to an acidic, screaming burn. He has to take the mask off! He knows this on an instinctual level, just as much as he knows that burn isn’t his flesh dissolving away. Its anger, his own anger, the resentment and bitterness about what happened to him and that perversion of justice those corrupt bastards put him through turned into a curdled, acidic well of resentment. He doesn’t understand how he knows this, or how any of this nightmare logic in this place really works, but he feels it deep in his gut. And this dream has only one way forward.

_Take the mask off to be free._

His fingers dig in on the edge of the mask and he pulls as hard as he can. It hurts, a new agony from the beatings and that nightmare seizure from before, the hard material of the mask almost bonded to his flesh at the bubbling edge of venomous pain. This pain is liberation though, necessary. Blood flows.

_Per-_

Harder! Pull harder! He screams with the effort, and across from him the king’s eyes go wide while Sakomoto looks ready to be sick as he sees the fast flowing blood splash the floor. 

“Guards, stop him! Stop him before-”

_-so-_

With an arc of blood and one last scream of effort it’s off. Akira has the blood soaked mask in one hand, lungs pumping like bellows, and is staring wide eyed at the pool of blood at his feet even as more fat, heavy drops of red-black blood drop to join it. 

His head snaps up, locking eyes with the king. His own glowing gold, matching the king’s.

“-its...too late.” The king concedes. 

_-na_

Akira’s face, blood drenched and marred by the mask rip, sports a massive smile. The smile of his other self, broad grin matched by malevolence in his eyes. The mask in his hands evaporates into a blue fire which rapidly roars up his whole body into a spiralling conflagration.

  
“Come, my other self! **Arsène!** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next were initially one chapter but I am trying to keep myself under a certain word count per chapter to avoid getting sprawling and rambling in one webpage. This particular chapter is about the worst of the early 'Akira has bad shit happen to him and no agency to react' parts, but in the game and here both it clearly represents the situation reaching a boiling point and I hope that the buildup to that reads well.
> 
> Also we meet our Very Good Boy Ryuji this chapter! I'm having a lot of fun writing him in the stuff following this, trying to get character voices to feel like them without VA work is a challenge I'm enjoying. Also trying a few things with Ryuji specifically as we go along, his being a complete idiot always struck me as weird. Butt of the jokes character aside, Shujin is an elite prep school and he no longer has a sport's team to protect him from bad grades. I'm trying, maybe failing, to have Ryuji come across as more blunt and prone to racing to action than pure dumb. We'll see how that goes, it is a fine line to walk.
> 
> In any case, hoping this is enjoyed as we start getting to the real supernatural chicanery of the story! Feedback is of course appreciated.


	4. Castle Crashers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An escape is effected. A cat is met.

Nothing that had happened since he followed Sakamoto into the alley made sense. For the most part it had been a constant string of indignities, pain, and the ruination of both his school uniform _and_ dreams of starting a new life in Tokyo as an honest, reliable student. He’d been beat bloody and insulted, he’d seen things he couldn’t explain and experienced things he had no answers for.

But as the blue flames roar into a towering inferno, he doesn’t care. Because even if he has no idea what the hell is happening, he feels better than he has in his entire life. He’s awake, focused, in tune with his own emotions for the first time in a very long time and he’s going to ride this high as far as it goes. The pain from his beaten body and bloody self inflicted wound on his face vanish into the azure conflagration, which shows little sign of abating. Instead, it grows, soaring to the ceiling of the chamber and coalescing into a solid form.

As the greatest of the fire recedes, a demon is unveiled. Tall and lean, its face a black iron mask against which burning red flames form its wicked grin and blazing eyes. A tophat and red suit give it a genteel impression, the wicked black claws on the ends of its arms make it seem dangerous, and just as a cherry on top it spreads two feathered black wings which scatter phantasmal feathers across the room. Spectral chains whip and lash the air between it and Akira, vanishing into the bonfire at his feet and marking their connection. 

Akira throws his arms wide, the mad energy of this scene getting to him. If he’s going to be doing this, might as well play the showman too.

**“I am the pillager of twilight, Arsène!”** The demon mirrors Akira, arms wide and voice putting on just an extra edge of flourish, knights blasted back by a hurricane gust from its wings and the pink caped king flat on his ass.

Sakamoto looks like he’s seen...well a demon, face blanched and mouth slack. “W-what? Is this for real?”

**“I am the rebel’s soul that dwells within! And if you so desire, I shall consider granting you the power to survive this crisis…”**

Akira’s smile grows only broader, if more dangerous. He feels stronger right now than he ever has before and it wants to give him more? “Alright, then. Let’s kick ass.”

The king scrambles to his feet, retreating from the demon but not fleeing. “Men! Get him! Put the rebel down!” 

The knights that remained standing twitched at the king’s order and then proceeded to do something Akira could in no manner have predicted. He braced himself for a sword or spear charge, a wicked silver knife manifesting in his (gloved?) hand. Instead the knights appear to have a seizure, bodies flopping back, armored cuirass swelling from within and cracking and then exploding into a burst of black ichor and blood that pools on the floor and rapidly coalesces into the form of...two pumpkin headed figures. Little cloaks floating like ghosts, one free floating glove hand holding a glowing oil lantern, jack o’ lantern heads blazing with fire...kind of cute really. Less cute are the wicked sharp meat cleavers held in the other hand.

**“This power of mine is yours! Run wild! Kill them in any way you wish!”** The demon booms out and Akira lets the jolt of fear he felt at the weapons fade. He’s on top of the world, he’s armed, and he’s surging with power from his contract or unity or whatever the hell it is with his other self. Blade in hand, he dashes forward.

One of the Jack-o’-Lanterns rushes to meet him, cleaver chopping. Akira had in his entire life never been in a fight but the power coursing through him is compensating for whatever lack of skill he had. He moves with grace, precision, and strength he never knew and brings his blade up in a hard block, slamming the cleaver off course. He has no technique, but he has the physicality to at least move like a fighter and even someone inexperienced as himself knows you block blows and then return them in kind. 

The knife in hand whirls to an inverted grip that somehow feels right to him and he drags it in a slash across the face of the pumpkin headed ghost. It staggers back, wounded and spilling fire from its face, when its companion raises its own lamp.

And to the immediate dismay and terror of his foe, it vomits forth gouts of flame at him. He dodges as best he can but catches a searing hot burst on his flank that sets aflame his ( _leather? What?!_ ) coat for a long few seconds of panic that he transmutes into his now familiar, and owned seething anger. He narrows his eyes at the creature and a word springs unbidden to mind.

_Eiha!_

With an echoing, spectral laugh Arsène raises a clawed hand to the creature from where he hovers over the fight and clenches his fist. And the pumpkin ghost is immediately wreathed in a miasma of black and red energies that erupt from below where it hovers, emitting a single shriek and dissolving into dust. 

_Did I just cast a spell? Did he just cast a spell? Was that channeling my emotions?_ Akira has no answers but a variety of possibilities. He capitalizes on the momentum, taking his knife to finish off the last floating figure with a second slash across the leering jack-o’-lantern face which sees it dissolve into ashen darkness and blow away with a shriek.

“Well, who else wants some?!” Akira flourishes the knife and spreads his arms wide. At long last the blue fire burning at his feet fades and the laughing demon disappears. Back into Akira, he feels a burning presence in his own psyche, as the mask he’d ripped off before manifests on his face again. Not going to be so hard to remove this time, he thinks. 

The other knights were nowhere to be seen. Did being tossed around in the gale of Arsène’s first appearance destroy them or drive them off? A glowering Kamoshida certainly remains though.

“Wha-what the eff was that?!” Sakamoto drags himself to his feet, with his back to the wall as a support.

“How dare you, rebel scum! I am the king here and you-” Kamoshida strides forwards, raising a hand as if to strike Akira and the young man readies his own knife in turn and reaches up for his mask, psychologically mustering the will to conjure forth his inner demon once more. However Sakamoto, confused and beat to shit all the same, is apparently done playing on the sidelines.

He sees his chance as the pink cape crosses in front of him, Kamoshida laser focused on Akira, and barrels into the larger man’s side with a full body tackle that sends him sprawling. 

Akira’s face lights up at that. _Amazing work, punk!_ “Sakamoto, grab the keys off him!” Akira races for the prison door, ready to slam it shut. The other teen reaches under Kamoshida’s cloak with obvious disgust while the man is still struggling to right himself, races out of the cell with just a half pause to scoop both of their school bags, and as Akira slams the door shut jams the key in, secures shut the heavy lock and turns around to lob it as far as it can go.

Outside of the cell they’re in a cold, sprawling underground hallway with cells lining both sides of a rushing, cold stream. Or sluice, or whatever. Akira wasn’t entirely sure of the right archaic castle terminology, but Sakamoto’s toss sees the keys land with a splash in the rushing flow. “Nice toss!” Akira holds a hand out without thinking, and Sakamoto slaps his gloved hand.

“Nice toss? How about nice...whatever the eff that was! With the monsters and...what are you wearing?” 

Akira finally takes a moment to assess what he’d sort of been catching onto in the fight. His ruined Shujin uniform had been replaced by something completely and utterly more stylish. Sharp black leather shoes, tailored black slacks, a silken oystery gray vest and pristine white shirt, a stylish black leather frock coat and red silk gloves on his hands. Akira reaches up to his face and gently removes the mask on his face without mustering the strength to conjure Arsène into being, turning it over in his hands. White porcelain, has a vaguely avian bent to it around his eyes, very stylish.

“You know, I don’t know, but…” Akira relaxes for a brief moment to formulate an actual reply. And then it hits him like a thousand bricks, a bone deep exhaustion that sucks the strength from his limbs. He sags against the wall. “Sakamoto, hold on just...one minute. That all caught up to me-” 

“Hey! You’re dead, you know that? Now let me the hell out of here and maybe I won’t make it a torturous one!” The king slams into the bars of the door, startling the living daylights out of Akira. And in the blink of an eye and a burst of blue fire the suit is gone, his dirty and damaged Shujin uniform back in place. 

Sakamoto looks between the normal Akira and the raging king and sighs. “This is effin’ nuts. Come on, let’s run!” 

Akira, feeling like a corpse motivated by weak electrical impulse, musters his strength and follows as the other man flees.

And so they depart, the king screaming invectives behind them, racing through the stone carved halls and leaping across the racing stream on top of debris and stone piles. Akira takes the lead as much as he can, since he knows in some corner of his brain he is the only one who can fight no matter how tired he is. Ducking behind cover when knights on guard duty appear, dashing forwards when their attentions are elsewhere, and racing desperately to find a way up and out of this place. 

\--------------------

Up happens, a massive spiralling staircase brings them to a higher, almost identical level of dungeons and rushing water that is fed down to the _lower_ level of dungeons and rushing water. Akira is still waiting for that out, though. But progress is progress all the same.

Until progress grinds to a halt, their slow upward wind through the dungeons coming to a halt at an uplifted drawbridge where the rushing waterway goes from a few feet across to a few dozen feet of surging water. The bridge is flanked by two tasteless busts of the king, Kamoshida, and very firmly looks to have its up and down controls on the far side of the deadly river. 

And behind them, the rough hewn dungeons give way to more quality stonework, blazing braziers and draped banners on the walls and the last few cells of this place before the flight of stairs that has to be the way out of here. So close, so far.

“So...uh, you got a plan?” Sakamoto peers over the side of one of the busts to look at the rushing waters below.

Akira has nothing. But nothing is going to just mean they’re dead meat. “Give me a minute to think.” He runs a hand through his unruly mess of hair and looks up at the mechanism above holding the wooden bridge up. “Maybe we can cut the ropes or force it to drop or something.” He paces back and forth, looking into the nearest cells for anything that they might be able to use to that end. 

“Hey! Heeeeey! Blondie! Frizzy hair! Over here!” A voice, a bit raspy and belonging to a girl it sounds like comes from the last cell on this stretch. Another prisoner? “You guys trying to get out of here? I can help! If you get me out of this cell, I’ll get you out of the castle!”

Akira and his companion both veritably fly to the end of the line of cells. Sakamoto’s expression going from hope to dumbfounded shock in record time as they see the prisoner within, Akira doing his level best to keep his expression neutral. 

_It’s a cat. A monster cat. We are being propositioned by a monster cat._ Not any more crazy than knights exploding into monster forming goo, or anything that happened with the king or the demon Arsène but the fact it looks like someone turned a mascot into a living being adds a surreal new level to it. Cartoonish humanoid cat body, big head and big blue eyes, black mask over the top of its head and yellow scarf at its throat. It is actually kind of cute, horrible surroundings aside.

“What is that thing?!” Sakamoto doesn’t sugar coat his feelings at least.

“Look, does it matter?” The cat monster’s hands, impossibly small for a human of its height, wrap around the iron bars. Or at least try to. “You aren’t soldiers of this castle right? Then get me out! Look, the key’s right there!” It points, squeezing its shoulders through the bars but stopped by it’s outsize head. On a rusted iron hook just out of reach a metal key hangs.

“Hold up! Hey, how are we supposed to know you’re even on our side? You don’t exactly look normal, cat thing. Who’s to say you’re not an enemy too?” Sakamoto glares down at the thing.

“I’m trying to get out of here, the same as you so how can I be your enemy? Frizzy hair, come on! Help me out!” Big blue eyes plead with Akira.

_Can cats do puppy dog eyes? Apparently so._ “How can a...cat help us?” He ventures. Wrong move.

The thing’s eyes light up with annoyance. “I am NOT a cat! Say that again and I’ll make you regret it. I am Morgana, master thief and adventurer!” 

“Pfft. Not much of a thief if you got caught and stuck in there.” Sakamoto snorts with derision. “Come on man, let’s leave it and try to find another way.” There’s a distant sound of raised voices making him cock his head to listen. “Shit, looks like one of the guards found the king! We need to get going!” He fishes his phone out of his pocket. “And still no signal! How deep underground are we?”

The not-a-cat growls in the back of its throat. “Look, I know how to lower the drawbridge. If you let me out I’ll show you how and guide you out of the castle. Or you can sit there arguing with me and the guards can catch you and execute you.”

That settles a cold weight into Akira’s gut, that the insane events with the king and the demon had burned away. They were in incredible danger still, in a confusing place. “Morgana, you swear you can help us?” He crouches down to go eye level with the creature.

“On my honor as a thief.” It matches his gray stare with its intense blue eyes.

“Sounds like you’re all talk, cat.” Sakamoto scoffs.

“Hey, if you want to try your luck with the guar-” It starts back at him.

“We’ll let you out.” Akira isn’t about to let this devolve into a back and forth argument while seven foot tall knights are coming. He reaches out and shakes it’s tiny hand through the bars of the cell. Then he is up again, snatching the keys and freeing the not-a-cat Morgana who springs forth with a cackle that sounds dangerously close to a meow. It wastes no time racing forwards, the distant sounds of guards growing less distant.

“Now watch and learn, amateurs.” It leaps up to one of the busts of Kamoshida and grips it on both sides of its lantern jaw. With its body weight the thing hinges open into a parody of a laughing face and the bridges drop. “Secret levers. Keep your eyes open, this place is full of them. Probably a manifestation of the Palace ruler’s own habits, the deliberate use of secrets in some way.” The smile cutting across its giant head was bright enough to light a room before darts across the bridge. “Now come on, follow me!”

Akira and Sakamoto race after the not-a-cat, hearing the shouts and clanks of the guards in the distance approaching, but the blonde comes to a skidding halt as they pass one of the final cells before the stairs up. “Wait, hold up! There’s someone in there!” Inside the cell there’s a sprawled figure, groaning in pain, beat and dirty just like Akira and Sakamoto. Their face is obscured, an iron mask clamped hard over their heads and bound to the heavy iron manacles locked around wrist and ankle.

“No, don’t stop! They’re going to catch us if you stop!” Morgana is hopping with agitation at the pause.

“And leave someone else down here for these freaky knights? Eff that!” Sakamoto looks around the cell for a key like was found with Morgana. “They’re coming with us!”

“No, you don’t get it, that isn’t a person! It’s a cognition, they’re part of the Palace!” The certainly-not-a-cat is pulling at the white fur of its face. 

“What does that mean? You’ve said it a few times now. This place is a palace? Whose?” Akira joins Sakamoto briefly looking for the key but sees there’s nothing. This person is trapped unless that ‘master thief’ cat produces a set of lock picking tools immediately. Given it needed him and Sakamoto to spring it, he was having some doubts about that appellation.

“Is this really the time, frizzy hair?” Morgana’s glance back the way they came is nerve laden.

“No, not really. Can you pick the lock on this, Morgana? ” He follows Morgana’s gaze and sees what has it so up in arms. A knight, armed and armored, is barreling their way towards the bridge. _Ah. Nevermind then._

Akira’s back to high alert, tension thrumming, feeling the phantasmal presence of Arsène in the back of mind. And with a flash of azure flame, he’s back in the mask and coat with a razor sharp blade in hand.

“Frizzy hair, you can fight?” Morgana’s big eyes go even wider. “Well then, I guess maybe we aren’t in as dire straits as I thought!” It reaches into one of the many small pouches hung on it’s tiny belt and produces a scimitar longer than Morgana is tall from a space the size of a small wallet. And it looks extremely real, shining edge glittering gold in all the torchlight. Even Akira’s perfectly practiced neutral facade cracks at that and Sakamoto just about gags on all the words he wants to spit out.

“W-what the eff, Monamona?!” He staggers back, for what feels like the third time today by Akira’s count falling flat on his ass. 

“Just stay behind us. And it’s Morgana! You ready, frizzy hair?” He glances up to Akira.

Spreading his feet wide, knife readied, Akira raises his hand to his mask. “Whenever you are, _Monamona_.” He grins widely as the charging knight explodes into the red and black pile of ooze again, keeping its momentum up in a disgusting series of sloshing lunges before it consolidates into another one of those grinning jack-’o-lantern spirits, this time joined by a leering imp with a giant, sharp featured head on a scrawny body wearing a sharpened and spiked codpiece that has to be three foot long.

“En garde, Zorro!” With a blast of blue flame that roars up to the ceiling for a heartbeat, the not-cat is joined by a towering figure armed with a rapier in one hand. It is barrel chested, dressed in black leathers, and has a broad black hat and mask of its own.

“You have one of those things too?! What gives?!” Sakamoto at least is back on his feet and inching back.

“They’re called Persona, blondie, and shut up so we can fight!”

_Persona…_ that rings bells in Akira’s mind. He heard that word before, in the blue panopticon of his dream before. The Velvet Room. _Was that real then? Igor and the twins? Something about Ruin?_

“I’m coming for you, thief! For Lord Kamoshida!” The imp shrieks as it attacks on flapping wings, that sharpened codpiece glowing with arcane might. Right at Akira. 

Akira genuinely thought today couldn’t get any weirder, but here he is in a fight to the death with that. “Come, Arsène!” The mask dissolves into blue fire as he tears it away and his other self emerges above him, as sharp and battle ready as ever joining the sword wielding rogue. Akira wants that imp’s _thing_ nowhere near him, he knows that for sure. Which means…

_Eiha!_ He commands in his mind and Arsène complies, bathing the charging imp in a baleful red miasma. _Perfect, now to see if Morgana needs a help with that pumpkin…_ Akira is already turning to focus on the rest of the fight when the still very much alive imp carries on its charge. It is hurt, skin burned and warped in patches, but still hale enough to stab at Akira with a hip thrust in passing. His dodge is too slow, he took his eyes off the prize, and he gets a new slash in his arm for it. A wave of all consuming exhaustion settles on him as that glowing aura discharges off the imp’s ‘spear’, but he manages to remain upright. Barely.

“Tch! Frizzy hair, you really are an amateur aren’t you?” Morgana meanwhile has engaged in a vicious back and forth duel, cleaver versus scimitar, and acrobatically backflips away from a flame gout from the pumpkin’s lamp. “You go for the weak point strike if you can, and if you can’t you never take your eyes off the enemy till you drop it! Basics of fighting!” It continues its series of backflips, clearing space with the pumpkin. “Blow it away, Zorro! _Garu_!”

The spectral duelist slashes the air with his blade, and Akira can almost see the pressure ripple as a vicious, cutting wind blast crosses the distance between Morgana and the blazing pumpkin. It blasts it like a typhoon wind sending its cape flapping and internal fire dimming as small cuts appear across its cape and vegetal face. Strength leaves it with the fire, sending it slumping to the ground where Morgana ends it with a genuinely impressive flying leap into the air and vicious downstroke. “Like that! Now finish the incubus!”

Akira didn’t know what to expect from this not-a-cat-thing, but this swashbuckling display was something else. _Cat has moves_ , he concedes mentally. The imp is coming to a halt in the air past him, whirling about and casting his eyes between the injured Akira armed with a knife and Persona, and unarmed and injured Sakamoto on the other side. Oops. Akira knows he fucked up on this, letting it get past him.

“Eyes on the prize, incubus!” Akira shouts, drawing its attention to him as he charges towards it. He recalls Arsène back within, taking some mental load off himself by no longer having to manage the demon’s actions and allowing the mask to remanifest, and he engages the imp unfortunately up close. Blade against…’spear’. He gets inside the flapping monster’s guard, using leverage and his knife to turn the spike aside and with it the thing’s whole body. Then a followup slash across its reedy chest and the creature dissolves into black dust like the others before it. And...leaves a small pile of 100 yen coins?

“We’re clear. Sakamoto, I’m sorry but Morgana’s right. We have to go, and we need to go now before more soldiers show. Morgana, why did that thing just leave some coins when it died?”

The creature rolls its shoulders and somehow stashes its blade back in its belt, pleased smile on its face after that battle. “Well, we’re in the metaverse right? What’s a reward universally agreed on as proper payment for labor put in? Money! Its a pattern, an artifact of the cognition that creates this place!”

“Those sure were a lot of words, Morgana. I’m sure one day you’ll care to explain?” Akira deadpans and relaxes, the same bone deep fatigue from before getting to him. And once again his outfit dissolves into fire.

“Wow, you really are new aren’t you? Your powers are so unstable.” Morgana takes in that display with some concern on its face. “But we don’t have time now to get into that, you’re right. Frizzy hair, blondie, follow me! I said I’d get you out, and we’ll get you out yet!” The little thing is a bundle of energy and enthusiasm at least, racing up the stairs ahead of them as stealthily as it can.

Up and out. Akira prays this time it will finally be out, and follows at a weary jog with Sakamoto.

\------------------

Morgana delivers. They have to navigate up through the castle itself, echoing stone halls lit by flaming torches and braziers, with guards patrolling everywhere and heavy wood and iron banded doors audibly creaking every centimeter they swing open, but they make it safe out of the upper dungeons and into the great hall of the castle where Akira and Sakamoto were caught initially. 

_I’m pretty sure that’s my blood on that tile, actually…_ Akira warily took that in. The great central doors are barred and sealed tight, but their short guide leads them past the entrance, into a small side hall which is far more well kept than the cold stone dungeons. It has wallpaper! Furnishings! Archaic ones, but still, moving up in the world. 

And of course this takes right past the ten foot tall painting at the top of the stairs which faces the entrance, a great shirtless Kamoshida heroically posing with a blade. That certainly speaks to humility and good taste. Akira’s unnervingly struck that it is watching them as they pass, so he’s glad when they vanish into the side hall. And from there, Morgana leads them into what appears to be a small reading room or library and their best chance at freedom.

“An air grate?” Akira scratches his head.

“Absolutely. All one of you needs to do is force it open and you’re home free. Out the grate is the front courtyard of the castle, go across the drawbridge with all intent to return to your proper places and it’ll see you home.” Morgana crosses their arms authoritatively. 

“You’re not-nnggh-coming with?” Sakamoto had clambered to the top of the book shelf where the vent was the moment it was pointed out and is working hard to rip it out from the wall barehanded. Akira feels like that’s more of a way to get a bloodied hand but doesn’t have a set of screwdrivers in his school bag so doesn’t have many better options, of course. Maybe break a chair and turn a leg into a lever?

“No, I still have unfinished business here. If you guys get out that vent, you’re in the clear, so I have some exploring to do.” Morgana shakes its head.

“Thanks for the help then.” Akira kneels down next to it. “And you can stop calling me frizzy hair. I’m Akira Kurusu.” He offers the not-a-cat his hand which it takes eagerly. 

“Ryuji Sakamoto!” The bleach blonde chimes in. Akira finally gets a personal name to him, at last.

“And this is going to sound super weird but I’ve been trying to figure out what to call you in my head since we met. You say you’re not a cat? What are you then?” Akira releases Morgana’s paw. Hand. Handpaw.

“I’m Morgana, like I said before! And I’m a human! My body is just...well, distorted by something that happened to it before. I think.”

“Y’think? How do you not know what happened to you?” Ryuji’s got a corner of the grate up and is slowly bending the whole damn thing open.

“My memories were lost with my form. That’s what I need to find here still, a way that I might be able to undo what happened to me.” It nods sadly.

“So...uh, not to be too tactless Morgana…” Akira begins as cautiously as he can. “We can’t really tell from your present form. What should we be calling you? Like conversational pronouns?”

Sakamoto’s got the opening large enough now that Morgana might be able to fit in, but not Akira or his own broad shoulders.

“Come on!” Morgana sighs in exasperation. “I mean I’m obviously a…” They pause. “Uh…” And then flop down on the ground. “You know I actually never had to think of that since I woke up with my memories a mess, just some snippets and skills left.”

“I mean, if you ask me…” Sakamoto is worrying the last corner of the grate. “You kind of sound like a teenage girl. Maybe a bit raspy, but still.” 

“Nobody asked you, blondie!”  
  


“And Morgana’s a western girl name.” Akira adjusts his cracked glasses. 

“Huh.” Morgana idly scratches at their neck with one of their hands in a distinctly cat like motion. “I guess that feels right, but it is weird to have to think on it.” And then back on their (Her?) feet with a leap. “A gallant rogue can be a dashing man or woman anyway! It is all how you carry yourself, with style and panache! The Lady Morgana has a nice ring to it too, I suppose. Feels very femme fatale.” 

That gets a small smile out of Akira. “Oh you’ll be a real hit at the parties, so mysterious without a past. The ladies will swoon, the men fight for your company.” With a terrible crash, Ryuji works the final corner of the grate off and manages to send himself flying off the ledge, hard.

“I’m alive! Feel like I cracked something though…” He rises to his feet, massaging the knee that Kamoshida had stomped on earlier. The one he favors when walking too, Akira notes, even before they got caught.

“Look, the way out is open. Go!” Morgana’s face drops the pleased smirk she adopted from the bantering with Akira. “And thanks, both of you.”

“Same to you, Morgana. We’d be dead without you.” Akira gives a final glance back as he helps Ryuji to his feet. “Hope we see you again somewhere along the line, but we are unbelievably late for class.”

“Forget class, how about-Actually no, I’m going to be in so much hot water with my mom if I don’t even show at school today. Let’s go. Morgana, thanks. You aren’t half bad...for a cat.” Ryuji vaults up the book case and out the grate before she can lob one of the many heavy tomes lying around his way.

Akira follows with a leap and scramble. “We’ll be back, I’m not forgetting that person in the cell. We’ll see you again.” He locks eyes with Morgana, who gives a small nod in reply. “Right. See you around then.” And he’s gone, hitting hard cobblestones below the vent already running, chasing after Ryuji. And suddenly, as the two of them cross the bridge out, the world warps. Dizziness hits, and the swirling red and black sky fades overhead. They pound back through the alley the way they came, emerging into true sunlight on the street they last left.

_“You have returned to the real world. Thank you for all your hard work.”_ Akira’s phone chirps from his pocket. He and Ryuji share a long look as they catch their breath from that sprint, both doubled over and wheezing. 

“Goddamn...I am so out of shape...” Ryuji straightens and takes a long breath, checking his phone. His eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Shit! Akira, right? We’ve missed half the day already, you got another run in you?”

“Not...not really…” That awful fatigue that hit him after the first fight with Arsène only faded moment to moment on the way out, and the bruising and aches and cuts are really beginning to throb for Akira. 

“Yeah, me neither.” Ryuji gingerly presses a hand against his side with a wince. “But we need to try, man. We are so dead as it is, but if we can sneak in...As long as nobody’s sitting in the main hall, we can probably get by. If anyone asks what happened to us...mugging?”

“Oh yeah, those vicious Aoyama street gangs.” Akira adjusts his cracked glasses. “I was supposed to meet Kawakami-sensei before homeroom today so there’s no sneaking in for me. If I’m pressed, it was a mugging. We both keep it simple, right Sakamoto?”

Ryuji’s face lights up, even under the bruises and dirt. “Hell yeah.” He offers his hand to Akira. “You can call me Ryuji though, you’ve earned it. But yeah we're so impossibly late. Let’s go.”

Akira takes it and feels a small amount of the heavy weight he is carrying on his back lift. He’s going to get chewed out by Sojiro, even if everyone buys the story, but he’s got a friend out of this weird nightmare day. A confidant maybe, united by unexplainable nightmare trauma. Not the most normal start to a friendship, but he’ll take whatever he can get here. 

They bolt in the direction of Shujin together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't kidding before when I said some changes were basically purely on my own whim. I genuinely thought Morgana was a girl for the longest time when I first played P5. Girl name, same voice as Sothis and Taiga, etc. Well welcome to my universe! I am administrator of this reality, and my whims are canon here!
> 
> I'm hoping the action reads well, this being the first of many forays into it. And we're past what I really think of as the first narrative choke point, at least in my head, where our cast finally starts to get more freedom to act within the narrative, which is making writing the chapters that I'm on ahead of this really enjoyable. Also the ability to start to breeze over segments of time or do smaller scenes between the major ones, getting more comfortable rewriting or modifying dialogue or scenes or timing of events, also good vibes.
> 
> Either way, hopefully anyone who stumbles onto this enjoys and feedback is always appreciated if anyone has comments or critques.


	5. Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lie is tested and Akira goes to class.

04/11/20XX

Monday

Lunchtime

Shujin Academy

“A mugging.” Sadayo Kawakami doesn’t look any less exhausted than when Akira met her, but there’s more strength in her now she’s actually having to play teacher.

“Yes, Ms. Kawakami.” He doesn’t have to sell this lie, Akira was beaten up and rolled across a dirty dungeon floor. The dirt and bruises sell themselves.

“Because you and Sakamoto decided to take a shortcut to school, from a block and a half away, and this delayed you both by over four hours?” She crosses her arms and despite her soft yellow sweater and the least imposing face Akira’s seen for hours manages to project an aura of controlled menace.

_Not going to try and cross her this year, yikes_. He nods sharply.

She sighs and pushes her work chair back from the desk in the overstuffed faculty office. “The school is going to have to notify your guardian about this, you know. And Sakamoto’s mother too. And file a police report. And you need to see a doctor or at least the school nurse, you look like you can barely stand and I can tell you’re hiding a head wound.”

Akira’s memory of the last time he had a run in with the police comes back. The sirens, the cuffs, the days in solitary as they left him to rot between accusatory rounds with prosecutors until he finally cracked and put his name on whatever bullshit confession they had prepared for him. His heart hammers. “Can we not get the police involved? I didn’t...I didn’t see anything, or remember much. I’m sure Ryuji didn’t either. We just wanted to get to class as soon as possible when we woke up in that alley…”

She levels her gaze with his, which he meets as evenly as he can with his own poker face. The moment hangs too long before she gives a small sigh. “Fine. I can understand your reticence given your situation. You’re lucky it was Mr. Kamoshida who ran into you at the doors, most other people seeing someone arriving with Sakamoto-kun, both of you beat to hell? They’d have just assumed you were fighting and had you straight to the Principal’s office.”

_Yeah, lucky._ Akira had just about had a heart attack when the first face he and Ryuji ran into at the school was the King of the Castle himself, though this one knows what clothing is for and lacked the glowing gold eyes. He’d listened to their story and to Akira’s own surprise let them go. 

“After all,” He’d said. “Sakamoto can’t fight to save his life, getting jumped was just your luck for following him. Kawakami’s been waiting for you all morning, transfer student. Don’t keep her waiting any longer.”

And so Akira had been sent off with remarkably little trouble to the faculty office, though not without a year or two taken off his life from the sight of the man.

Kawakami shakes him out of his reverie. “Look, here’s what we’ll do: You go clean up as much as you can in the bathroom. I’m going to call your guardian and tell him what you’ve told me and what you asked, and whatever he says goes.” 

“I don’t look that bad, do I?” Akira adjusts his cracked glasses and gives a tiny smile.

“Yeah, sure you don’t.” She gives a barely amused snort and reaches up to his shoulder where she plucks off a piece of gravel. Must have been from the dungeon’s rough hewn basement levels. “Go clean up, Kurusu. We only have one post lunch period today, there’s early release due to the train schedules still being messed up from the incident yesterday. You can at least say hello to the class. Try not to say anything untoward, alright?”

So Akira shuffles through the halls, trying to avoid the stares of other students. He can less easily avoid their words.

_Wow that guy looks like hell!_

_Is that the new transfer student? I heard he’s supposed to be some kind of hardcore criminal!_

_I heard he and Sakamoto got into a fight on the way to school!_

Akira feels a familiar anger burning as he stares into the men’s room mirror and does his best to brush himself off and use a paper towel to dab his face clean. _Nobody was going to leak my record? Fresh start? Bullshit! Someone told a student, and the only people it could have been is that fat bastard Kobayakawa or a teacher!_ He doesn’t try to crush the anger down, the choices he made in that surreal nightmare still resonating with him. He instead tries to master it. No use raging or causing a scene, but he wasn’t going to forget this. Let it become action. Someone outed his past, nothing to do about it now except prove the gossips wrong and try to figure out who did it. 

_Breathe in. Breathe out. I’ve got this._ He throws the towel into the trash, makes sure his gaze is as stony as ever in the mirror and hefts his bag.

Kawakami at least has the decency to keep her cover for him simple and vague as the bell ends lunch break and students shuffle back to their classrooms. “Enough chatter, sit down and quiet. You had a whole break to get that out of your systems.” She draws herself to her full diminutive height and gestures at Akira, lurking off to the side of the room. “Today we have a new transfer student joining us. He unfortunately got into a bit of an accident on the way in so was delayed joining us until now. Care to introduce yourself?”

Akira sweeps his eyes over the room, pushing his still cracked glasses up his nose to hopefully shield his eyes from the class a bit. There’s a lot of whispering going around. Like in the halls. _Gods above, is this the kind of school where the rumor mill is like this?_

_It’s the delinquent, just like I was saying!_

_I heard he stabbed a guy!_

_I heard if you make eye contact with him he might just completely lose it! Look, he’s been in a fight already!_

The curious, unkind stares were lingering too long for his taste. He adjusts his damaged glasses and puts on his least threatening expression and relaxed body. “I’m Akira Kurusu. Sorry for being so late today.” Vague about what happened, appropriately apologetic, and hopefully all he needs to say.

“Thank you, Kurusu. You can sit…” Kawakami scans the room and all of its one open desk, settling on the second to last seat back against the windows. “In the back behind Takamaki. You’ll have to share books for class today, we’ll have your textbooks waiting for you tomorrow.” 

_Is that the anime protagonist seat? Goddamned really?_ Between the surreal violence earlier and this Akira wonders if this entire day is a dream. The figure in front of his seat has their head down, but a vaguely familiar white hoodie is pulled up over their head, which comes up at the mention of their name. _The blonde girl from this morning too? Thanks, God. I wasn’t having a bad enough day, let’s throw awkward in too._

She doesn’t say anything as he silently marches to his assigned seat, though there’s a flash of recognition in her eyes as he passes by. Her expression tightens as he nears, and Akira is unpleasantly reminded of the mop haired man she went off with, and then his run in with that man’s golden eyed doppelganger that spoke to Ryuji like he knew him.

“Takamaki.” He slips into the desk behind her. “Sorry about this morning.” 

She whirls in her seat to face him, mouth shut tight but eyes intense. Open mouth, pause, close mouth again. She just nods.

_Did you hear that? He knows Takamaki already!_

_Are they dating or something?_

_Then what about what I heard about her and Mr. Kamoshida…_

Akira heaves a sigh. _This fucking place. I said sorry, and now we’re dating?_ He fishes his pencil case and notebook out of his bag and glances to the girl to his right. “So...sharing a book for today?”

The other girl jerks like she was struck and nervously pulls out the textbook for Kawakami’s Japanese class and scoots their desks closer. Very, very cautiously.

_This is going to be a long year…_ Akira almost makes her jump out of her skin by moving his own to hers. He’d try some quip about not biting, but with the picture he was forming of most of his classmates that would pretty quickly turn into _I hear the delinquent bit a girl in his class!_ Or _Did you hear WhateverHerNameIs-chan is fucking the criminal_? Both of them could live without that, so he just takes his notes out and settles in for the exactly one class he’s attending today.

_Great first day. Maybe tomorrow we can get beaten up by space aliens on the way to school and make two periods!_

\--------------------------

Class passes in a haze of exhaustion. Akira does his best to focus and try to come across as a good student, but his attention drifts and eyes lose focus from time to time. He’s fairly sure the girl next to him thinks he was on something, and he doesn’t have the energy to fake normality today. His phone is vibrating constantly with text messages too for a good bit in the middle as well, and he dreads checking it to see Sojiro lambasting him for failing to be a perfect student. Or his mother or father, terrified about his getting hurt on the first day. 

Worse, the compounding stress of whatever injuries he’s carrying and that impossible mental fatigue he experienced in the castle dungeon are apparently getting to his perceptions. When the bell rings and students are unleashed for the day he’s blearily fumbling in his pocket to see just who wanted him so much when the world warps and shifts. His eyes lose focus and with a dull ache behind his eyes he sees the school, but also the stone halls of the castle, existing together for a long moment. “Ngh…” He takes his glasses off and rubs hard at his closed eyes for a second before opening them back up to see just the school. Stable, clean, full of departing students.

“Kurusu-kun? Are you alright?” Kawakami pops up at his elbow, like a yellow sweatered ninja.

“I...yeah. Just tired, sensei.” He shakes his head. “Going to head straight home, don’t worry. No shortcuts.”

“Good. And listen, I know you came in with him today but it might be best for you if you don’t get mixed up with Sakamoto-kun, especially as you’re trying to get settled in as a new student.”

Akira’s exhaustion fades with a faint stirring of anger in his heart. “Really? Because he helped me get to school today after we got thrashed. He seems like a good guy.”

Her eyes glance away. “Well he used to be a good student, back on the track team, but ever since-”

“Yo! Kurusu!” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Ryuji Sakamoto appears from his own class further down the hall, waving Akira down. “Hey, I know you probably have to run home today, but hang on for a minute before you go. We need to talk.” The last sentence carries far more serious weight than the rest. “I’ll be on the roof once you’re done here.” He gestures at the stairwell nearby. And without waiting for a reply, the slouching punk lopes his way up them two at a time. 

_He really can move when he wants_. Akira marvels a bit at that. 

Kawakami just gives a long suffering sigh. “Look, just don’t say I didn’t warn you. And, Kurusu?”

“Yeah?” He turns slightly as he moves to follow.

“I’ve heard the students talking about your record too. I don’t know who leaked it, but it was all over the student message board this morning. Despite what some people think, we do monitor it.” She meets his gaze for the first time in long moments and offers a small bow. “I’m sorry. That never should have happened.”

_Did someone actually apologize for any of the bullshit that’s happened to me?_ Akira’s heart skips a beat. “I...it’s fine. I’m used to a bad rep by now. Am I allowed to go now?”

“Of course. Just don’t linger, Sakura-san sounded pretty angry when I called him earlier.” She gives him one final look over, eyes obviously lingering on his ruined lenses and bruises. 

And with that, Akira is off and up the stairs.

\------------------------

The school roof is more of a mess than Akira expected. His old school had a few benches up top that students sometimes used to take lunches and it was overall absent the sense of abandonment that Shujin’s sported. There was a scattering of mildewing classroom desks and chairs near a large air conditioner unit, and a few long planters sporting new green shoots in neat lines tucked in organized rows to one side of the roof. Maybe the school had a gardening club?

Sakamoto is kicked back against one of the desks, paging around on his phone. He glances up as Akira maneuvers across the slightly cluttered rooftop. “Hey, man. So, what was Kawakami cornering you about? Warning about hanging out with me?” He clears his throat and adopts a horrible facsimile of her speech. “‘Don’t you get involved with Sakamoto-kun, he’s a bad egg since the track team fell apart!’ right?” 

Akira snorts. “Yeah, something like that.”

“I figured so.” Ryuji pockets his phone. “You and me are in the same boat, you know? I heard people talking shit about you all afternoon. Criminal record? Whatever, man. I’ve seen you in action close up. I trust you.” He leans forwards. “We’re in the same boat, in a way, man.”

Akira crosses his arms.

“Well okay, not exactly the same. But center of bad reputation, dude.”

Hard to argue with that, Akira gives a small nod.

“But that’s not really what I wanted to get you up here about. Today, in that castle...nearly dying...you do remember it too, right? It wasn’t all a dream?”

“Not a dream.” Akira points at his own bruised face, then to Ryuji’s neck where a harsh red and purple spot pokes up from his collar. “Not with these at least.”

“Yeah. My mom called me before I even got to class from lunch. She almost left work early to come and take me to a doctor, but not like I haven’t been hit before.” He gingerly probes his ribs with a wince. “Might be onto somethin’ I guess.”

Akira checks his phone at that reminder. “I didn’t get a call from my, uh, I guess guardian but texts…” 

Yeah, Akira should have maybe checked those during class it seems.

**Unknown Number** : Kurusu, it’s Sakura

 **Unknown Number** : Beat up on your first day and late? The hell?

 **Unknown Number** : Come straight back to Leblanc after school. You’re going to a doctor and I don’t care how much you might have issues with the cops we’re at least filing a report if you have anything worse than bruising.

“Yeah, about the same. Looks like I have an appointment to make sure I don’t have any broken ribs too.” Akira rotates his torso and feels dull muscle pain but nothing sharp from his skeleton at least. He hopes that means he’s fine.

“The castle bein' real at least means I’m not going insane, even if only you and I know of it. And you saved me from Kamoshida too with that crazy demon and the cat…” Ryuji gives out a relieved sigh. “So thanks, man. For everything.”

“It was nothing, man.” Akira wants to wave it off, the praise landing oddly heavily.

“Wasn’t nothing to me.” The blonde gives him a bright, toothy grin that makes the discomfort at praise before feel trivial by comparison. “But still, that Kamoshida...that was weird. You’re new here, so you probably haven’t heard the rumors, but the one in our school that knows what pants are is bad news too.” Ryuji’s smile fades. “He’s an Olympic gold medalist from the last ones, and gets the run of the school ‘cause of the fact he makes it look good and took the volleyball team to nationals last year. But people talk, which nobody in the school does shit about ‘cause of the big hero thing.

“What kind of rumors?” Akira leans against one of the abandoned desks next to Ryuji, crossing his arms.

“That he abuses the volleyball team. Creeps on female students. I can tell you the physical abuse is probably real. Last year when he started here, he ‘assisted’ with the track team. He’d run us ragged, deny water, if anyone’s time dropped he’d run them until _they_ dropped…” Ryuji’s tone implies personal experience. Akira winces.

“And now?”

“No more track team.” A heavy sigh.

“Ah.” Akira has no followup to that.

“The point I was gettin’ to I guess was that Kamoshida the King we met kind of felt...I dunno, right? Too real, at least. Do you think we can even get back to that castle?” He runs a hand through his hair.

“We got there once, we can do it again.” Akira idly twirls his phone in his hand.

“Wanna give it a try?” The big smile is back.

Akira wants to say yes and immediately tackle the problem, but the aches in his body, the impossible fatigue, and the fact Sojiro was waiting on him all conspire against that. “Tomorrow. If we’re not both grounded.”

“Hell yeah!” The other guy slaps Akira on the back, landing right on a bruise of some type. Akira keeps the scream that is trying to boil up in his gut contained, at least. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for that. Guess that’s all I really had to say. We both probably need to get going, but come talk to me around school whenever.” He pulls his phone out. “What’s your chat ID?”

Akira and Ryuji exchange contacts, but Akira doesn’t miss the returned presence of the red and black eye app on his phone. _Again, really?_ He’ll have to maybe look into how to get rid of malware on mobile later. “Alright, let’s get the hell out of here. If I’m late today my guardian is going to probably tear me a new one.”

“Same, my mom is worried. We can hang out till we get to the Shibuya station at least. Where do you live?” Ryuji hops off the desk and follows Akira down through the school. 

“Yongen-Jaya. Pretty lived-in district but I think I like it a lot more for living than the rest of the city I’ve seen. Aoyama-Itchome and Shibuya are all I’ve really seen and they’re...a lot. I’m from out in the sticks and only had a few days to adjust.” They descend the three floors of the school as they talk.

“Oh man, that’s gotta be nuts. My mom and I are up in Shinjuku, in Shin-Okubo. It’s a bit more ‘city’ than Yongen is I hear. Cool place though, lots of good food.” His stomach audibly grumbles. “Ugh...speaking of food I’m going to hit up the school store. I didn’t get lunch today, after we ran into Kamoshida in the school I spent the whole period getting lectured by Ushimaru. He’s my homeroom teacher, you’ll have him for social studies. Total hardass. Has an arm like a cannon too.” Ryuji rubs his forehead nervously.

“And that is relevant to social studies because?” Akira raises an eyebrow with some disbelief.

“If he catches you not paying attention he nails you with a chalk piece. Anyway, if you need to hit the bathroom or whatever this is the time. Line’s kinda long at the end of school if you don’t bolt for it. I’ll get you something too. Meet me by the entrance?”

“Meet you by the entrance.” Akira nods. It has been a hell of a day and isn’t done yet, but the talk with Ryuji helped center him a bit. And he is finding he actually likes the guy, who doesn’t seem to give a shit about Akira’s record which immediately makes him better than most of his old friends. He’s lost in his own thoughts as he charts a zig zag path to the restrooms then the exit, but is brought down by the familiar sound of the King of Shujin talking. 

He isn’t sure how he possibly missed it, but Kamoshida and the fat lump of sleaze that is Principal Kobayakawa are talking around the corner and heading his way. 

“Why on earth did you allow a student like this criminal to transfer here anyway? He’s already associating with our other persistent delinquent, and I shudder to think what he and Sakamoto can get up to together. Criminal transfer and our own assault case?” Kamoshida drones on to the big man. “It might as well not matter how much I contribute to the school at this rate.” He heaves a heavy, fake sigh. Akira chances a look around the corner to see, as the voices came to a stop.

“Don’t be like that, Kamoshida-kun!” Kobayakawa is actually sweating with nerves, Akira could swear. “You are our star! We all know how much you contribute! And besides, if the transfer student causes any problems he will be gone in a blink. I have made sure of that.” 

Kamoshida nods in agreement. “Your troubles never end, do they Principal Kobayakawa? Well then, I’ll keep doing my part to meet your expectations of me! And I’ll keep an eye on Sakamoto and Kurusu. If anything catches my eye, I’ll be sure to mention it at the monthly staff meeting.”

Kobayakawa’s expression visibly lightens. “Ah, I see! Thank you, Kamoshida-kun!”

“Of course. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to practice.” He claps the egg shaped principal on the shoulder and departs. Away from where Akira hides, thankful for one stroke of good luck today.

_That conniving, slimy piece of shit._ Akira feels like he might crack a tooth with how hard he’s grinding his teeth. _Fair chance here? No, let’s conspire to eject your own image boosting rehabilitation case!_ He’s going to prove both those smug assholes wrong if it is the last thing he does, which he knows means perfect behavior and maybe something more. He’ll work that out later, when his head is less swimming and his emotions less fraught. He emerges from cover, makes his way to the exit, and when he and Ryuji join back up shares what he learned as they make their way to the trains. The both of them are in Kamoshida’s sights apparently, and he deserves to know.

Ryuji takes it about as well as he did. “For real?! What a piece of shit! You ain’t even done anything! Tomorrow, you and me and the castle. There’s some kind of link between him and there, and we’re going to figure it the eff out and get him off our backs. You with me on that?”

Akira feels that angry miasma settle into a hot, driven fire. He gives Ryuji a dangerous smile. “Yeah. I’m with you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm reasonably pleased with this chapter. I guess I start to feel more comfortable editing and adding scenes after we get past the narrative point of the Awakening. I also feel like I have to invent new shitty adverbs for Kobayakawa. This may not come clearly through text but I somehow feel worse after writing him than Kamoshida who I am not even going to elude around the rapist bullshit. Which for the record is why I'm keeping this fic at an M rating.
> 
> I don't plan to write any exciting smut as part of the core arc or anything (If I do, fully expect chapters written as part of the same group but not in the main fic), but Persona 5 at times directly deals with bad shit as a central premise. I hope to not be distasteful and will tag chapters as appropriate, of course, but intend to trudge forwards in my own trashy way I guess.
> 
> As ever, any feedback is appreciated to improve chapters past, present, and future.


	6. Doctor's Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New faces are introduced, some questions are answered, and more are raised.

04/11/20XX

Monday

After School

Yongen-Jaya

  
  


The sun was setting, painting the sky in oranges and soft yellows when Akira returned to Yongen-Jaya. He’s tempted to stall a bit before returning to Leblanc, still not ready for the in person tongue lashing he’s pretty sure Sojiro is going to drop on him before marching him off to whatever clinic is in the area. He vaguely recalled a sign for one in his initial wandering around the area, when he was seeking Sojiro's house just a few days before. Feels like longer than that, after the events of today.  _ God, how is it still Monday? _ Akira muses to himself as he peruses the secondhand shop a short distance from Leblanc. Not that he had the money to buy anything, but an intact looking CRT TV and a DVD player go on his shopping list if he ever gets a job. Might make the large, increasingly emptied out attic space more hospitable at least.

_ And here I am stalling again. _ He sighs and leaves the shop, making a promise to the boxy TV that it would be his soon enough, and goes to face the music at Leblanc. The smell of coffee and curry spices wash over him, but the comforting aroma isn’t doing much to offset the hard glare he’s getting from behind the counter. There’s a woman seated in one of the booths, nursing a tiny cup of espresso, but her presence doesn’t stop the immediate lecture.

“Hrmph. At least you came straight back.” Sojiro crosses his arms. “Seriously, first day of classes and you go and get yourself beaten to hell taking a shady back alley route? What were you thinking doing that?!” Akira opens his mouth to reply, but is shut down with a harsh glare. “And don’t give me the mugged line either. If it was actually that you’d have given the cops a statement, issues with them or not. It was other students, right? I’d been to school before too, and know the desire to not cause more trouble by ratting them out.” 

_ Well it certainly wasn’t what happened, but if Sojiro wants to assume it was bullies I’m not about to say anything.  _ Akira relaxes. He’s not being thrown out, he’s just getting an earful about something that didn’t happen and even if it had? It was entirely beyond his control.

“Hey!” Sojiro snaps. “Focus on the here and now, Kurusu. You’re spacing out.” He looks him over. “And look like hell. Is that a bruise on your neck? You’re going to at least get a look over.”

Akira could sleep where he stands, filthy clothes and body pain aside, but knows he doesn’t have room to argue. And that body wide ache from the various beatings isn’t vanishing in a puff of azure flame like the miraculously healed skin of his face. “Yeah. I probably need it.” He raises an arm and winces at the slight muscle pull.

Sojiro gives a tiny smirk, his hard face slipping just a bit. “Doctor Takemi?” He glances to the woman seated at one of the booths who rises to her feet, which is the first time Akira really takes her in since he got here. His enormous mistake for waiting, apparently. The woman is beautiful, in a distinctly standout style. Sharp features, short black hair that falls to the nape of the neck, short black leather jacket thrown over a dark green dress with a body wide spread of silver webs on it that ends very high on the thigh and with torn black tights and leather sandals...Some of Akira’s regrets about today evaporate at least.  _ Thank you, whatever gods have been ruining my day today, because this is at least half worth it. _

She also notices him staring like an absolute idiot, like Takamaki at the awning that morning. That gets a small snort and smile at least. “What, you thought we had to trade in personal style for a medical degree or something? I’m off hours now, but Boss asked me to give you a once over.” She gulps down the last of the dark espresso in its small cup and sets it back down. “So, we can do this here or at my clinic. Your call, kid.”

“Boss?” Akira’s more fatigued than he thought, his brain deciding to hang up on the nickname rather than any of the other content.

“It- It’s just a nickname that’s followed me around over the years. Doctor, I think you probably should take him to your clinic. I’ll owe you one for this.” Sojiro doesn’t blush, per se, but he sputters a bit. That might be the first time Akira’s seen him flustered. Maybe he too has a weakness for that goth-punk look. Can’t blame the man for that at least.

She nods a small affirmative to Sojiro while eyeing Akira up and down. “Akira Kurusu, right? Here, we’re just a block from my practice. You think you can manage a little bit more of a walk today?”

He gives a weary nod, and she leads him into the streets once more.

\---------------------

Personal style aside, Dr. Takemi’s small local clinic seems entirely professional as Akira sits shivering slightly on the exam table after she has him out of his uniform top. He would be feeling self conscious enough around someone who looks like her, her own professional decorum the moment she swaps to ‘doctor’ mode perfect, but the series of bruises all across his torso don’t help in the slightest. Nor did the gently probing fingers checking for points of intense pain which of course they were finding.

“I’m sorry if this is messing with plans or any-AH! Yes, the big purple spot on my ribs hurts.” Akira’s attempt at an apology is cut short with what had to be a deliberate press of fingers.

“Firstly, you’re fine. I run this clinic alone, some days of the week I shut doors early and have other work to do to run this place. Paperwork, some laboratory work I do here, whatever. Secondly, no small talk.” She prods another sore spot. “You can grovel after the exam if you feel so bad, but we need to make sure nothing is broken, torn, or any concussion. Understood?” 

Akira winces and nods. And he keeps his mouth shut through the rest of the probings, limb maneuverings, lights flashed in his eyes and small tasks of coordination he is subjected to.

“Well, in good news you aren’t concussed and I don’t think you bruised any ribs.” Takemi eventually concludes and hands him back his shirt and blazer from the chair they’d been tossed to. “The bad news is you’re going to need to take it easy for several days to heal. If you push too hard you might wind up causing some actual damage. Your lie was this was a mugging?” She crosses her arms.

“Wasn’t a lie.” Akira tugs his shirt on over his head and shrugs his jacket on.

“Want to try that again?” She produces a wallet from the pocket of her leather jacket, which had remained on the whole time. His wallet!

Akira’s eyes widen before he can school them back down. “How did you-”

“You were nodding off a bit after I checked your eye dilation. Wasn’t too hard to take out of the pocket, and quick check for change. You still have money in there, Kurusu.” She passes it back to him with a pleased smile. “I’m not a cop, and I’m not going to rat you out as openly lying to Sakura-san. I’m going to ask that whatever you got up to today, don’t repeat it. And if it was other students, picking on the criminal transfer knowing you can’t fight ba-”

“How did you know that?!” Akira’s fatigue and bleariness vanish in an instant, angry fire stoking him awake. “I thought of all people Sojiro wouldn’t be spreading-” She cuts him off with a finger to the lips.

“Calm the hell down, kid. You aren’t in any shape for throwing a fit anyway. I’m the reason you’re here, a friend of mine happens to be a friend of your mother’s and he was talking about your situation after the sentencing when we were getting coffee a few weeks back while they were in town. Boss overheard and offered to help out.” Stern face, sharp tone, Akira shuts the hell up as commanded. “So you’re welcome. You going to yell any more if I remove my hand?”

He shakes his head no.

“Good.” She lowers the hand. “Now go back to Boss and give him the good news that there’s nothing wrong with you that bedrest and a bit of patience can’t fix.” She produces a business card and scribbles a number on the back of it. “My personal cell phone. Text me if anything changes or if you notice a shortness of breath. Or if you need to see a doctor for less pressing reasons than falling down in a mosh pit.”

Akira chokes back an actual laugh. “I’ll try to avoid those dangerous Tokyo hardcore shows I guess.”

“Or whoever actually did this.” The levity fades.

“Yeah, or that.” He picks his school bag up and slings it over a shoulder. “Thank you, Dr. Takemi.” 

“Stay safe, Kurusu. And take it slow for a couple of days.”

Akira departs the closed clinic at an easy pace, stretching out muscles that became stiff from just a short bit of sitting. He adds her contact to his phone as he walks, checking both sides of the card. 

_ Tae Takemi. No that’s too boring, she has flair to her...  _ Akira bites his lip for a moment of thought on that.  _ Tae Takemi in contacts, Dr. Death Metal in messenger. She’d probably approve. _ He slips his phone into his pocket. Pauses. Retrieves it.  _ No, Dr. Death I think. Much better. _

Sojiro barely gives him grief on his return to Leblanc, apparently satisfied with Takemi’s report. “She says take it easy, so you take it easy. Tomorrow you go to school. At the end of the day if you go anywhere besides straight back here, text me. And if anyone lays hand on you, I stop caring about your desire to not mix up with the police again. We file a report and you call your parents about it. Got it?”

_ Yeah, I’ve got it. _ Akira nods solemnly and then drops his bag in one of the booths. “I’m going to get a bath. Thanks, Sakura-san, for....”

“Don’t thank me, just don’t see a repeat of this.” The older man sighs. “Go to the baths. I’m sure you have homework, but that can wait till the grime is gone. I’ll have dinner for you, then-.” His phone goes off in his pocket. "Hell, hold on." He answers. "Hey. Yeah I'll be home in half an hour, hour at max." He covers the microphone one handed to shoot Akira a short glare. "Well what are you waiting on? Go clean up or do some work, shoo."  _ Must be his daughter if he's trying to hustle me out of here _ , Akira muses silently. "No, that's just a part timer I hired. Don't worry about it, I'll be back soon." He gives Akira a meaningful glare that reads 'hurry the hell up' to him.

Akira can’t argue with that, but he isn’t actually sure what homework he has from missed classes just yet and really intends to sleep. That bath though? Hell yes. He can’t quite put the day behind him just yet, but the short shower and long soak in the bath at least let Akira begin to clear his head. He ignores the other guests to the baths when he slips in, shutting his eyes and leaning his head back to just...breathe. Unclench. Relax. This day started as a nightmare and ended at the center of rumors in his school, a few long moments of not caring turned out to be almost completely therapeutic. No brooding on school, or the castle, or realizing he never asked Takemi who her friend was, or any of the thousand little skittering thoughts running around his brain. Just him and the hot soak.

When he falls into bed that night, he’s asleep before his head hits the pillow.

As is becoming the pattern in his life, that doesn’t last.

\-----------------------

04/11/20XX

Monday

Nighttime

The Velvet Room

“Wake up, inmate! Our master has need to speak with you!” The sharp voice of Caroline jolts Akira awake with a crash of her nightstick on cell bars for emphasis, startling enough to fall off the hard cot of his cell. He hits the cold stone hard, and pushes slowly to his feet. 

He’s back. Back to the cold, musty cell he was in last night. Complete with two children in uniform glaring at him from the door of his cell and the leering gremlin figure of Igor in the back. Igor chuckles with his same deep laugh as before. “Indeed! What an excellent display you put on! You have awakened to your powers, most special ones at that.” He leans his improbable head on his creepy, spidery fingers.

“Powers?” Akira’s brain is whirling as he wakes up but he has the presence of mind to connect a few dots. The weird figure had mentioned Persona last night. The name came unbidden to his mind this last day when he and  Arsène forged their contract, a word that the weird cat (catgirl?) Morgana had spoken of. “Yeah. I have. What the hell is a Persona?” He slams against the bars, hands wrapping against them and startling the two small wardens enough to jump. “You mentioned that last time, did you know what was going to happen to me? Did you know about the King and that castle?!”

“S-Show some respect, inmate!” Caroline hops back at his aggressive push, waving her nightstick wildly.

“Calm yourself, Caroline. Be like your sister, who understands so clearly that the inmate has questions that need an answer.” Justine primly straightens from where she had jumped at their master’s praise, adjusting her clipboard to cover being startled by the inmate. Igor’s bloodshot eyes focus on Akira. “The Persona is a mask, the armor of the heart used to face the trials of the world at large. Everyone has different faces they show to friends, to family, to peers. To Awaken to a Persona is to recognize your hidden aspects that most ignore, and to reach a unity with your own unseen self, your Shadow. The mask becomes known, and through your knowing it you gain power.” Igor chuckles. “It is a most glorious event to see realized!”

Akira doesn’t fully understand what he means, but he understands the bone deep connection he shares with Arsène.  _ I am thou, thou art I  _ some part of his psyche echoes. “But what does that mean? How did you know, Igor?”

“I did not. At least not with certainty. But we had faith you would, when the time was right, awaken that potential. You had the potential, and something very rare besides.” Igor leans forward. “You can attain the power of the Wild Card, the absence which can beget infinity. I genuinely look forward to your exploring this potential.” 

“The...what? That didn’t make any sense! Context?” Akira is so tired. Tired of burying his emotions, which since his contract with Arsène he is looking to move past. Tired of the cryptic nonsense. Tired of whatever the hell happened to him today that saw him beat and tired.

“Not just yet, but rest assured as your Rehabilitation proceeds more will become known to you. We promise you that much.” Igor rumbles and his rigor mortis smile broadens. “In the meanwhile, I am pleased you have begun to make use of the Metaverse Navigator.”

“The…” Akira leans his forehead against the bars and tries his hardest to think.  _ Metaverse? Not sure about that. Navigator...that red eye app?  _ “You put that on my phone?! What the hell is it? What does it do?!”

“Calm yourself, inmate.” Igor chuckles. “It is a tool by which you may enter Palaces of the corrupt and seek to challenge the distortions of this world. If in your quest you come into potential allies and collaborators, we might see fit to bestow it upon others.”

“So you admit you created it.” Akira leans heavily against the bars of his cell. 

“I did, and now you and allies shall use it to advance your cause. I hope you are prepared, for your rehabilitation hinges upon your use of this tool.”

Caroline slams her baton on the cage doors, smashing against his knuckles. “It’s a gift from our master, Inmate! You’d better appreciate it!” 

If Akira is done denying his anger, he is long since done dealing with this exact brand of arrogant abuse. He glares down, locking eyes with the girl’s one glowing golden eye. “Well if I am to appreciate it, maybe you’d better stop acting like an asshole. Do you have anything to offer besides screaming and hitting me?”

Caroline stiffens. “How dare you, Inmate! Master, for that I think we should deny him the guillotines until he makes suitable penance! Justine, back me up!”

“He is not wrong, sister. You do strike the inmate and yell a significant amount.” Justine hugs her clipboard to herself.

Igor laughs. “The time for the guillotines will come when it comes, and not a moment sooner. In the meantime, take your time to prepare yourself and grow as a most excellent thief…”

“What? That doesn’t explain a thing! A thief? I’m not a thief! I’m just-” But he is cut off by a distant voice calling his name, cutting through his dream. And with a start and heavy thud, Akira Kurusu once more faceplants hard off his thin mattress on a bed of milk crates onto the floor. The details of the Velvet Room fade like the day before, but more remains than whisps this time. Metaverse Navigator, armor of the heart… Akira definitely has some takeaways this time.

“Wake up, Kurusu! You’re not missing class today, so wake up and get ready already!” The sky outside his window is still pre-dawn, but Sojiro’s voice in the cafe below cuts through Akira’s sleepy haze.

“Coming! You got here before my morning alarm?” Akira disentangles himself from his sheets. “I knew you really did care.” He rides that slightly smug high all the way through a breakfast of scrambled eggs, rice, and of course curry. This cafe had a theme, but so far he couldn’t deny its quality. The curry was amazing, and combined with a strong cup of the house blend of coffee served black the two reached heights undreamed of before. He didn’t know how the old man found this niche, but was glad he did.

And then out the door, neutral face on and ready for an actual day of class. And then business with Ryuji and a castle.

\------------------------

04/12/20XX

Tuesday

Morning

Aoyama District

  
  


Akira was feeling better by miles after the night’s rest, though the dull aches through his body have become more diffuse rather than gone entirely. Sure the jostling of other passengers on the crowded subway car isn’t great, but he isn’t about to keel over from a gentle shove like he was feeling yesterday. Still he  _ was _ tired, the coffee not enough to completely banish the morning cobwebs, but not that impossible fatigue either.

He’s spacing out upright on the train when something happens to jolt him awake. There’s a vibrantly red haired girl in the Shujin uniform beside him in the packed carriage, speaking with an older woman. His music is going in his ears to help insulate him from the incessant chatter and noise of the subway, but the play of events before him doesn’t need much explanation. She offers the older woman a seat, stands to give it, and like greased lightning a random man in a business suit slips in before the old woman can sit and almost immediately passes out.

_ What a dick. _ Akira pulls the buds out of his ears and leans in to the group. “Did he just do what I think he did?”

The girl looks up to him in some surprise, eyes the exact same crimson as her hair.  _ Weird, but maybe she dyes it to match eye color or something. _ “Oh my! I didn’t even see you there. Yes, he did but well, I suppose I can understand why too.” She gestures at the closed eyes. “He must be exhausted. I’m so sorry, ma’am.”

The old woman laughs. “Oh it isn’t your fault, dearie. I’m not so old that I can’t carry a bit of shopping on the train.”

“I can wake him up if you want…” Akira extends his hand to give the man a flick to the head.

“Oh please, don’t trouble yourself!” The old woman seems more amused than not, which is helping defuse some of Akira’s immediate anger and the redhead’s nervous apologies.

“You’re sure?” He draws his hand back and when she nods gives a small shrug and returns to his wake up playlist. The girl seems to still be feeling guilty, taking the woman’s bags at least and Akira returns to his own private world of funky bass and arrhythmic guitar and drum for the rest of the commute to the Aoyama-Itchome station. Just another little run in that he’s done with.

The run in isn’t done with him however apparently. The redheaded girl races up behind him after he’s out of the station. “Wait a moment, please!” He turns, genuinely impressed by the turn of speed she’s putting on to catch up.  _ And  _ she isn’t even winded when she comes to a halt.

“Sorry, did I step out of line on the train or something?” He adjusts his glasses, his spares replacing the ones ruined yesterday. 

“Oh no, nothing like that! I just wanted to thank you for your help, actually.” She gives a deep and formal bow, surprising him. It is sharp and sudden enough her red ponytail threatens to flip forward on her. Tied up with a bright red ribbon too, the girl definitely has a theme.  _ Cute though. _ He admits that much to himself. A bit formal and intense for this hour of the morning, but she’s at least talking to him rather than avoiding the delinquent.

“That? It was literally nothing, the woman said not to bug him so I didn’t. Sorry you had your good deed for the day hijacked.” He adjusts the bag strap on his shoulder. “Want to walk and talk to school…?” He leaves the question in the air hanging.

“Ah! Yoshizawa. Kasumi Yoshizawa.” Another sharp bow, but Akira is distracted by what feels like cotton in his ear for a second there. A sort of fuzz to her words that passes instantly. “I’m a first year here. I see you’re a second year.” She gestures to the pin on his uniform. “I guess I should be calling you senpai then!”

Akira feels oddly uncomfortable with  _ that  _ for some reason. “Please, you don’t have to. I’m Akira Kurusu, you can use my name!” 

“Kurusu-senpai.” She beams.

“You can just call me Akira if you want. You’re about the second person here to give me the time of day, I think that makes you almost a friend.” He starts walking and she falls in besides him.

“Akira-senpai.” She digs her heels in on that and her bright smile takes on an amused edge. 

“You’re really dedicated to this, aren’t you? Fine. Akira-senpai.” He sighs heavily, but inside his mood is lifting on the back of her own enthusiasm. The pair of them march to Shujin, a trail of whispers in their wake. 

_ Isn’t that the honors gymnast? _

_ Is she with the delinquent transfer student?! Doesn't she know how dangerous he is? _

_ I heard he and Sakamoto got into a huge fight yesterday morning and showed up hours late! Someone should warn her! _

Akira almost wants to laugh at this, the rumor mill at the school is reaching almost parodic levels.  _ This fucking place… _ They pass through the school gates, guarded by one of the third year teachers he doesn’t know and the looming figure of Kamoshida. The man watches him walk in with Kasumi but doesn’t say anything outright, though Akira can feel his eyes watching them as they pass. He splits off from the girl and heads to his own class, ready for another whole day of this school’s gossip cycle. 

\-----------------

04/12/20XX

Tuesday

Lunchtime

Shujin Academy

Akira hits the school’s store to get some kind of protein in him at lunch, and after a thoroughly miserable class preceding lunch with the asshole social studies teacher for his year, Mr. Ushimaru, feels like taking some time to actually explore the school. Specifically, the library. Something had occurred to him this morning when he was departing Leblanc in a sleepy haze. And in truth, he needed the time to think. After what Ryuji had told him yesterday about Kamoshida and abusing the track team, he’d spent a significant amount of his day today observing the class rep. A downcast young man, Yuuki Mishima sat a few desks ahead and to his right. The bandage he has on one side of his face and a wicked looking black eye take on a different connotation today. Akira isn’t sure if he’s on the volleyball team, but resolved to find that out.

He rubs idly at the red spot on his forehead where the older teacher managed to nail him with a chalk stick for spacing out in his class due to that observation time, though. Good arm for a man in his sixties at least. 

Akira slips into the small school library as unobtrusively as he can. The stares and whispers that follow him everywhere are here too, but he is getting good at tuning them out. He’s here with a task in mind, so he negotiates through the small stacks here and peruses authors as he goes.  _ And there it is.  _ He knew the names sounded familiar! 

Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Thief. By Maurice Leblanc, translated edition.  _ Maybe Igor was onto something with that thief comment, though I don’t think he was a demon in any of these stories. _ Akira tucks the book under his arm, weaving through crowded tables of students cramming a few minutes of study or homework into their lunch periods and one table occupied by a single, very intense looking girl. Akira recognizes the type from his old school, the ones who could somehow claim a whole table to themselves just on aura alone. Probably top of the class, whatever year she’s in. 

The student at the circulation desk visibly tenses as he comes her way. That hurts more than the gossip, really. The fact that these people are so upset by his very existence chafes at a raw point in his soul. “Y-you’re the transfer student, right? What do you want with me?!” She’s a deer in the headlights.  _ What do these people think I did, kill someone? _

He holds his book up. “Just want to check this out.” He offers as neutrally as possible. She flinches slightly.

“I don’t-Should you even be here? This is a place for good students to study!” Her voice is rising in pitch to a panicked edge.

“That’s great, I’m not trying...look, I have my ID so can we just scan this and-” Akira pushes the book towards her again.

“Do we have a problem here? People are trying to study, you know.” A sharp voice from behind. If Akira was a betting man, he’d have had a thousand yen down it was the girl who’d been sitting alone before.

“Ah! Niijima-senpai! Yes, help me please! I was just trying to explain to the transfer student-” She looks over his shoulder with some hope, but Akira is getting extremely tired of this nervous exchange and cuts her off as he turns to address the other student.

“I am trying to check a book out.” He holds it up. “That’s all. Nothing nefarious, not plotting some criminal enterprise. Just want to read. Can you help me out here?” The other student, a third year he notes, levels a hard stare with deep red eyes at him.  _ Second person today with that color, what kind of odds are that?  _

She lets out a small sigh and brushes aside her bangs. “Check him out Sugita-san, he isn’t doing anything wrong. You’re the second year transfer student, right?” She focuses on him and gets a short nod in return. “I know it isn’t your fault, but your presence is being disruptive here. I can’t really ask that you leave, but for the sake of those trying to study could you?” 

“I wasn’t planning to linger anyway.” Akira takes the tiny win for what it is. He’s definitely going to add some study sessions in here to get on these people’s nerves though after this. Not much of a rebellion, but making them squirm by quietly doing homework in one of the study carrels will take the edge off whatever work he’s doing. He takes his book, gives the short haired upperclassman a deliberately provocative wink and hits the halls. He’s rewarded by her scowl deepening for the half a second he sees it before shutting the door behind him.

He has better things to worry about today than his ongoing shunning, but finding innocently easy ways to get under the skin of the worst of them is proving rewarding enough. It wasn’t like he was pissing off the class president or anything. Just one of the intense honors students, someone who maybe could use a bit of chilling the hell out in their life.

\---------------------

04/12/20XX

Tuesday

After School

Shujin Academy

Ryuji is waiting for him by the school’s exit, leaning against the wall that cuts Shujin’s campus off from the rest of the city. He doesn’t look half bad today either, the gash on his arm bandaged with gauze and bruises certainly still visible in his short sleeved shirt but no braces or splints. He’s fidgeting pretty badly though, leg bouncing and constantly passing his blazer from shoulder to shoulder to occupy his hands.

“Sorry for the wait.” Akira slips up next to him, shooting a short text off to Sojiro saying he was going to hang out with a friend and maybe look into a club. Only half a lie, really. “I got sidetracked.”

“No problem, man. What was it?” The punk stretches his back and limbs as he gets ready to try moving again.

“Takamaki. The girl who we saw getting into the car with Kamoshida yesterday. She and him aren’t actually a thing, right? Because that’s what all the gossip is saying and I’ve managed to catch just a few hints this school’s gossip machine is both prolific and bullshit.”

“Well, that’s what they say but man...I dunno.” Ryuji rubs the back of his head. “I’ve known Takamaki since middle school, she’s definitely not the type to hook up with a teacher even if they weren’t a dick like that. People just rag on her because she’s partly foreign and hot. You know how that shit goes.” 

“Because she’s obviously sleeping with everyone, because the rumors say so, so the rumors say it more…” Akira drawls out with disdain.

“Yeah. We used to be pretty tight but high school kind of put an end to that. Lots of shit went down last year, y’know?”

“I really don’t, but can guess.” Akira cracks his neck to work out some tension.

“What brought this on though? This isn’t coming out of nowhere.” Ryuji doesn’t put on an intelligent front, but Akira is beginning to suspect he’s more perceptive than he thought at first.

“Heading out of class I saw Kamoshida corner her.” He grits his teeth. “He was talking about all those accidents that had been going on lately, and it was real obvious he was angling to get her in his car or something. She was making up some stuff about a photoshoot, then appendicitis to beg off...she’s a real bad liar isn’t she?”

“Oh yeah, the worst. She actually does some modeling I think, but you can tell when she's makin’ shit up. Her best friend is the one who usually handles that when they’re together, but Suzui is in 2-B this year so they got split off in classes. You’ll probably see them together sometime.” Ryuji snorts. “I knew that guy was a creep though. What the eff is he doing trying to hit on high schoolers?”

“Which is why we’re going back to the castle, to see if there’s some kind of link with him. Maybe we can...I don’t know, get some kind of evidence he’s creeping on girls or beating his teams?” Akira sighs. “I don’t know, but I do know we need to learn more about that place. And see about that person we saw in the cells. And I need to cool off, I’m going to crack a fucking tooth at this rate if I keep letting that asshole get to me.”

“Language.” Ryuji scolds in such a reflex action that Akira actually laughs, which just annoys Ryuji more. “Hey, shut it!”

“Sorry, just...you have this whole punk thing going on and swear all the time but you have a line on fuck?” Akira wipes a tear away.

“My mom does.” The blonde sulks slightly.

“Alright man, it’s fine. It’s fine.” He snorts one last time. “Anyway. Castle. I had an idea, but wanted to check it out with you.” Akira produces his phone. “I’ve had this weird app constantly installing itself on my phone for the last few days that might be related.”

Ryuji’s face brightens at that. “I was thinkin’ the same thing! When we came back last time, your phone said something like “Returning to the real world” or shit.” He produces his own phone. “And when I woke up this morning,  _ this  _ was on mine.” He turns its screen to face Akira, whose face settles into a blank slate again and raises his phone to face Ryuji.

On both screens there is a small icon with a red and black eye. “Yeah, I’m thinking you might be onto something.” Akira presses the icon which pops open a search bar and a few other icons. One reading Saved Locations. A tap there, and a tap on Ryuji’s phone, both produce the same result.

_ Suguru Kamoshida. Shujin Academy. Pervert. _

_ Castle of Lust _ .

“Eerie.” Akira adds mildly. “But I think you got it right. Want to go?”

“Hell yeah I do!” Ryuji doesn’t even hesitate to hit the location. The rush of leaving students has ended, leaving most of the remaining people on campus in various clubs or in the library, but Akira had intended for them to go out of sight in the alley across the street from the entrance. Ryuji’s charging enthusiasm puts an end to that plan, and before their very eyes the universe ripples dizzyingly and Shujin Academy shifts into the form of the towering keep they saw before. 

_ Once more into the breach, then. Sorry, Takemi. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this weekend wound up being oddly productive for me! I don't make any promises more than the once a week/every other week minimum rate I'm putting for myself, but I'm pleased with most of the writing I've done this weekend. Sometimes you get a lot done you didn't expect.
> 
> Not really too much commentary on this one. This chapter and the last one are specifically kind of breather chapters, mostly there to introduce characters or just establish mood a bit more. 
> 
> I'm playing around with a self imposed limitation when writing this, where I only want to enter the POV headspace of a member of the Phantom Thieves after they awaken to a Persona, and with limited moments from confidantes. This is pretty much purely self imposed to get to know these characters from the (often biased) POV of the existing team and play with perception. Given how often confrontational these interactions are, and some changes I'm thinking of implementing, should be fun to write at least. I know I said it before, but giving other characters to bounce off of has really been a good part of the story progressing. I am definitely looking forward to using Ryuji and Morgana in the near future as our points of view in some scenes.
> 
> In any case, thanks to any who reads as ever! Next time, back to the Palace!


	7. The Castle of Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the castle, deliberately for the first time, Akira and Ryuji slip their way in and get schooled by a cat.

04/12/20XX

Tuesday

After School

The Castle of Lust

The world ripples. The school twists and distorts, a reflection in a once still pond after some punk kid tosses a rock in. It ripples and undulates and in its place rises the high keep of the castle from yesterday. The pair of them are in the courtyard before the heavy, sealed wooden doors. Closer in front of them than the last time the two entered this world, but maybe the fact they were inside the real school’s walls and near the front gate had some part of that.

Akira’s back in his black coat and mask, the comforting weight of a knife is at his side, and the presence of Arsène which was only a faint buzz in the normal world is a crackling fire in his psyche now. “Well then. Hopefully nobody saw that.” He produces the sharp knife from his belt and flips it idly. “You ready?”

Ryuji gawks up at the castle. “It really was for real. I mean I know these bruises didn’t come from nowhere or anything, but it all was so effin’ weird.“Ryuji blinks, breaking his long stare at the castle to focus on Akira’s clothing. “Dude. What the hell are you wearing? That happened last time too!”

“What, you jealous?” Akira’s smile is broad and sharp, tugging his gloves on more firmly.

“Hah! As if, but I mean...you were just wearing a school uniform a second ago so wha-”

“Hey! Amateurs!” A small, catlike form races their way from the side of the courtyard. Guess they were standing on the side of the door where their escape hatch was last time. “Shhh! I could hear you from two rooms away in there!” Morgana makes a high leap and managed to deliver a tiny paw-bop to each of the boys. “You both only barely got away yesterday, why are you already back?!” She glares at them both. “I know you said you’d be back, but you both are hurt and the Palace’s is on high alert for intruders!”

“What is this place though? You keep callin’ it a palace, it’s right where our school should be, but this place is actually real, right?” Ryuji bounces the heel of his foot in agitation. 

“You’re half right, blondie! It is the school and it is a castle, but only to the ruler here. The king, whoever he is in your reality.” The not-acat’s smug smile splits her face. “Not half bad of a deduction though...for a moron.”

“Hey! Who’re you calling a moron?!” He snaps back at the three foot tall figure.

“Who were  _ you  _ calling a cat yesterday?!”

Akira steps between the two. “Hey! Morgana, weren’t you just telling us to be quiet? Both of you, shut up.” They glumly go quiet. “Morgana, look maybe whatever is happening here makes sense to you but we are absolutely lost. Please, if you can, explain it from the most basic principles? How is this place linked to Kamoshida? How is it a castle, not just why? Normally buildings don’t just completely change on you. You are the expert here, we’re just learning.” Morgana brightens considerably at the last bit of ego stroking, which is exactly what Akira had hoped for.

“Well okay then, I guess I am the one with experience. I’ll take you amateurs under my wing!” She preens in a most catlike manner, though of course was not a cat. That was made very clear several times before. “You see, this castle is a Palace, a place where the distorted desires of a person in your world are-” She’s cut off by a distant scream, blood curdling in intensity. It sounds like it is drifting from far away in the castle but is strong enough to carry to them outside.

“Whoa! Hold up, Morgana.” Ryuji’s face goes completely serious. “We’re gettin’ way off from why me and Akira came here. The prisoner we saw before. There’s more than just one guy isn’t there?”

A second scream drifts through the air as Morgana winces. “Yeah. Every day about this time the guards empty the cells out and march them off. Then the screaming starts.” 

“I saw the uniform on that guy. It was one of our school’s gym uniforms.” Ryuji’s face twists into an angry scowl. “That son of a bitch! What game is he even playing here?!” He whirls on the not-cat. “Morgana! You know where the screams are coming from?!” Akira is surprised how fast this guy can go from zero to shouting, but he can’t deny he’s feeling a sharp spike of fury at this too. 

“I do.” Whatever Morgana actually is, she has one of the most expressive faces Akira’s ever seen. And she is concerned now. “Why, Ryuji?” She uncrosses her arms. No more insulting nicknames here either, both of them are in more serious mode. 

“Ain’t it obvious?!” He sputters. “I want you to take us to them!”

Morgana winces. “Yeah, I was afraid you’d say that. I can do it, but the castle is on high alert from our escape attempt yesterday and it’ll be extremely dangerous sneaking back into the dungeons. Are you sure?” There’s yet another wet scream from the distance.

“Hell yeah.” Ryuji’s face is set. “You?” He turns to Akira.

“Absolutely.” Akira nods back and turns his focus to Morgana. “Lead the way, Morgana.”

Morgana races past the side of the door and leaps up to the opening in the wall they exited from last time. “You guys aren’t exactly thieves, so I’ll teach you as we go. Pay attention, stick close to me, and if I say something you do it immediately. Maybe you’ll pick something up, but as long as we get to and from the dungeons alive it’ll be a win in my book.” She vanishes into the castle, leaving Akira and Ryuji to share concerned glances.

Not concerned enough not to clamber in behind Morgana and follow along of course.

\----------------------------

The castle is as ominous as ever once they’re inside and moving. Looming statues, dark shadows between the burning braziers and torches, dark furniture and wall hangings to create an oppressive mood. Morgana doesn’t waste any time, scoping out the far side of each door and darting ahead the moment she determines it is clear. Ryuji and Akira follow as best they can, while trying to avoid stomping too hard as they race after their guide. At several points the pair of them experience the same surreal visual blur that Akira felt in school. One moment, the castle was a castle. The next, the grand entrance hall is the trophy filled foyer at the front of the real Shujin, and like a ripple in a stream it is gone and the columns and flaming chandeliers high above reassert themselves. 

Morgana notices their pace slowing. “Come on, if we hang out here guards will definitely be through at some point! Let’s go!” 

“I just…” Akira blinks a few times and takes his mask off to rub his eyes.

Ryuji shakes his head viciously. “I was seein’ double, the hall turned into the school!”

“It  _ is  _ the school, I’ve been trying to tell you guys this!” Morgana hops from foot to foot. “I promise, I’ll explain it better if I can but we aren’t safe here. We need to find a safe room or some corner that the guards aren’t going to turn up in!”

Akira replaces the mask, which adheres to his face somehow entirely on its own, and gives the now stable grand hall one last look.  _ She’s not wrong, we’re sitting ducks. _ “Sorry, Morgana. We’re good.” Their guide seems ameliorated by this at least a small amount and resumes their infiltration. Akira is at least soaking in the basics here. Move to corners and cover, check discreetly through doors, always go fast but not so fast you make excess noise. He’s determined to learn as much as he can from the professed ‘master thief’ because with all the strangeness happening, the dreams, Igor’s vague and ominous pronouncements? He is absolutely certain this isn’t going to end for him anytime soon. Or Ryuji, if the long nosed man saw fit to share the Nav with him. 

The group proceeds rapidly after that, slinking through the castle. One phantom leading two followers who are trying their best to keep up, progressing down into the cold dungeons once more. They encounter a few guards on patrol here and there, but Morgana prevents their stumbling into the view of the enormous knights and when the patrolling guard passes they move further in and deeper down. Akira honestly is surprised how long it takes for the inevitable snag to happen.

They are at long last in the dungeon levels, with the rushing water of the underground stream to one side, and between them and several sealed doors that lead to deeper levels still there is a lurking guard, patrolling back and forth.  _ Right by the drawbridge from the cells that we came up from, probably trying to keep a second escape attempt bottled up…  _ Akira grits his teeth. “So Morgana, what’s the plan here? Rush it and hope it doesn’t raise an alarm before we kill whatever monsters it turns into?” 

Morgana gives a quiet cackle. “Not quite. We’re going to ambush it!” She pulls Akira and Ryuji behind some stacked wooden crates for cover. “Ryuji, you’re going to have to sit this out though.”

“Like hell I am! I can fight!” His voice is loud in reply, the guard glances their way but Akira has a gloved hand over Ryuji’s mouth before it confirms it didn’t just imagine something. 

“Quiet man. Listen to her, she’s the one who knows anything.” He withdraws his hand carefully, heart pounding but slowing down as he sees the guard didn’t catch on.

Morgana clears her throat quietly. “As I was saying...Ryuji, you don’t have a Persona. I’m sorry, but you’re basically dead weight fighting Shadows without one.” The punk grumbles but doesn’t raise a riot this time. “Akira, you’re going to need to take point on this.” Morgana peers around the corner of the box. “When the guard is facing away on its patrol route, run up behind it, jump onto its back, and rip that mask off. The mask is the key to the Shadows holding that form of knights. You yank it off and unveil whatever lies beneath, but because it was surprised you are also temporarily breaking the control the Palace ruler has on them. It should get us a good second or two to strike while they’re distracted.”

Akira just about chokes at that plan. “I have a few issues with this. One, I don’t have a seven foot vertical jump at the best of days and my body is still a mess from yesterday. Two, you keep talking about Shadows and the Palace ruler and I still don’t get how this will actually work. Three, you’re way smaller than I am and quiet as a c-” He stops himself. “Very sneaky.” He finishes lamely. 

Morgana’s eyes are shining with delight at being able to teach these amateurs once more. Akira can tell that she might berate them ( _ Well, berate Ryuji _ , he concedes), but is enjoying playing the mentor role enormously. “In this place you do. Don’t you remember how it was to fight? Your Persona helps enhance you. Faster, stronger, more dextrous than you ever were right? You handle that knife like a natural too. You did sports or anything before? This is a place ruled by cognition, how you or others think shapes reality just a bit. You can do it.” She pats him on the shoulder. "And I can’t do it because even if I am a nimble master thief, I’m not strong enough to rip the mask off the guards.” She looks downcast at that. 

Akira doesn’t ignore that. “I’m sure once we return you to your proper form, you’ll be plenty strong. I’ve got this then. Be ready to move when I do.”

Morgana’s eyes light up. “You’re saying you’ll help me? I didn’t even ask you yet!” 

“I mean, it’d be kind of shitty to not help. But we need to do one thing first before doing another.” Akira peers out of the cover as the hulking guard stares blankly at the stream and appears to try and pick its mask’s nose.  _ Weird. _ “Ryuji, you with me? She saved us, we can repay the favor later right?”

“Uh…” The blonde blinks. “Yeah, sure. Of course!” He hadn’t even thought further than the screams today as far as Akira could tell. “Can’t leave you stuck as a cat forever after that save, can we? Akira how abo-”

Akira moves in the middle of Ryuji’s sentence, the guard turning in its patrol route leaving a wide opening. He doesn’t think what he’s doing through, trusting blindly that Morgana wasn’t lying about what she told him. He slips up behind the guard and leaps, and his body responds in a way that he knows physically it shouldn’t. He flips onto the knight’s shoulders, planting both feet on either side of it’s head, reaching down to slip fingers under the mask. It feels  _ so right _ . The presence of Arsène in his hindbrain crackles with energy and he pulls. “Show me your true form!”

The mask snaps off the helmet and Akira is briefly staring straight down into darkness inside that helm. A black, choking miasma lit with two glowing points of red rather than a mere absence of light.  _ Well, that’s horrifying.  _ Akira leaps as he feels the armor below convulse and swell before exploding into a pool of blood and black ooze from which two of those pumpkin headed specters emerge again. But they don’t attack. Morgana was right, they seem befuddled for a moment. A moment being all the two of them need, Akira burying his knife up to its hilt in the side of one’s pumpkin head while Morgana conjures forth Zorro in a burst of azure fire to blast the other out of the air with cutting winds. She finishes it with another spectacular flourish from that scimitar and the hall is once more quiet. 

_ No alerts, no alarms. Nice. _ Akira’s face breaks out into a broad smile as he scoops up the scattering of coins the universe decides to reward them with. _ A few more of these and I’ll not have to worry about lunch money tomorrow _ , he thinks slightly contemptuously at the tiny amount of yen in his hand.  _ Well, waste not.  _ Into the pocket it goes. 

“Alright, let’s go!” Morgana races down the corridor route they cleared before coming to a skidding halt! “Wait, no! There’s guards coming!” Akira can hear it, the distant clank of metal on stone. Their guide casts about desperately before settling eyes on a door that seems...somehow out of phase with the rest of the hall. A bit less substantial. “There, a safe room! Follow me!” She races and slams the door open, which for a brief moment Akira would swear is a classroom from the school itself. “Get in!”

He and Ryuji both bolt for it, though he sees his companion stumble slightly getting going. Same leg he favors when walking too. Wasn’t he on the track team? The two of them make it in before the guards appear from whatever direction they’re clomping from at least, with Morgana slamming the door behind them.

Akira is busy trying to process the room’s contents. It was like the great hall before, constantly flickering between a dingy storage room in the castle and a normal Shujin classroom. First floor if he had to guess by the views out the windows during moments when that side swam into focus. He feels like he’s going to be sick with vertigo and Ryuji actually is clutching a...wooden bucket? Plastic trash can? Both? “Morgana, what’s… _ urp _ ” Akira shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath before he loses his lunch too. “The hell?”

“Oh don’t worry, shadows probably won’t come in here. This room is a place that’s part of what the ruler thinks of as his Palace, but is somewhere he doesn’t think about much so it is invisible to his...servants…” Morgana’s voice is cheerful for a moment before trailing off as she presumably notice the shape Akira and Ryuji are in. “Are you guys alright?”

“Do we look alrig- _ hurk _ ” Ryuji heaves once more into the bucket.

“Oh! You must be getting disoriented because your cognition of how the school really is conflicts with the weak distortion from this Kamoshida guy in here. Take a deep breath! Close your eyes and think real hard: You are in the castle in the metaverse! You are not in your reality!” Morgana at least sounds cheerful still.

_ Okay, deep breath. Deep breath and visualize. _ Akira inhales. Exhales. Envisions the stone walls and burning torches of this place, and when he opens his eyes it is stable again. Ryuji still has his eyes screwed shut, resting it on the lip of the definitely wooden bucket and breathing hard. Eventually he opens his eyes too. “Morgana, I know we’re racing to get to wherever the prisoners are, but if this room is as safe as you just said could we maybe get a primer on what the hell is happening?” Akira pulls a chair back from one of the wooden tables in the room. 

Morgana presses one of her most certainly not cat ears to the door. “They’re still out there so I think we have time.” She presses back from it and leaps onto the table while Ryuji sits across from Akira, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “This castle is a thing _I_ call a Palace. Capitalize that in your heads, trainees.” She burnishes the very feline claws on a very humanoid five fingered hand against very feline fur as she hams up the wise mentor act. “A Palace is a place in an alternate reality that is created by the cognition of a distorted individual, who is the ruler of the Palace. It is a place where one’s distorted desires are made manifest. In this case, it is that one you call Kamoshida.”

“A castle is Kamoshida’s reality?!” Ryuji throws his arm wide. “Bullshit! That doesn’t make no effin’ sense!”

Akira would feel inclined to agree but…”Who was the king then? That wasn’t Kamoshida, we saw him at school not long after that and he didn’t react to us.”

“That was Kamoshida too, but not the one you know. That’s his shadow, his dark reflection. All the things about him that he ignores for his own self image. Kamoshida thinks of himself, privately, as the King of your school, and in this place his shadow is the king of a castle and everything here distorts to his whim. They’re enormously powerful in this place. That’s what those are about.” She trots across the table to tug at the lapels on Akira’s frock coat. “Only someone with a strong will of rebellion, someone who is willing to fight back against the lies of this place, can resist that. In other words, someone who has the potential for a Persona and the will to awaken and use it. These clothes are a manifestation of your internal vision of rebellion or whatever is driving you so hard to resist.”

Akira adjusts his coat as Morgana lets him go.  _ Okay so I do like the dashing rogue look, so I guess I should be glad it was sort of modern instead of medieval. _ He focuses questioning on Morgana again. “So this is a place created by Kamoshida’s fucked up...mind? Moral center?”

“Desires. Some part of him has so warped his view of the world that in the metaverse, this realm we’re in, he’s created this castle and swept up lesser shadows to play bit parts in it.”

“So what’s a shadow?” Ryuji leans against the table. “You’re makin’ it sound like they aren’t Kamoshida’s creation. Unlike everything else in effing school! That asshole is everything I thought about him!” His fist slams hard on the table, making Morgana flinch.

“An entity that is born of humanity. They exist in places like this, created and shaped by human desires because that’s what they are. Slivers of emotions spun into myths and nightmares. Like those pumpkins and the incubus we fought, they’re sucked up by the Palace ruler’s distortions and become part of the Palace’s inhabitants. Here they’re knights and guards, but when you fight them they devolve to their true natures as echoes of humanity. Each person has their own personal shadow self, but there’s more entities out there that exist independent of any one human. Those are the ones who fill places like this.”

“And the  _ ruler _ shadow?” This entire conversation is sitting heavy in Akira’s gut. Emotions and myths given shape? That would sound insane if not for the fact he’s seen it, fought it, and has scars to testify.

“Each living being has a shadow of their own self. For most people, it isn’t anything special.” Morgana looks downcast. “Just a part of you. However this world is where the human psyche is made real. There are some people who are twisted up by distorted desires or hiding particularly strongly from themselves and their shadows become stronger. Strong enough to shape these places in the metaverse with their desires.”

“Yeah, yeah, we follow. Low level emotion monsters as goons, maybe some mid tier guys as minibosses, and then the big bad in charge. We’ve all played videogames before, and I guess if this is a world of dreams or some crap makes as much sense as anything else.” Ryuji waves a hand dismissively. “But hey! Those distortions you mentioned? Is that why you’re a cat?” 

“I’m not a cat! I’m a human! And...yes, I think actually.” Morgana flares up and then self douses. “That’s why I came here actually. I think there might be something in a Palace that I can use to help me fix myself but then, uh, I got caught.” She coughs awkwardly. “And then Kamoshida tortured me for a while. So I have beef with him too. But let’s get going, I think we’ve stalled long enough.” 

_ Or are getting too personal. Maybe a bit too personal too soon Ryuji. _ Akira pushes himself to his feet. “Wasn’t a bad break at least. Ryuji and I are still hurt.”

Morgana winces witthose big eyes. “Yeah. I maybe could have done something about that had you got to me sooner, but we can get into that sometime later.” She presses an ear to the door. “They’re gone. Come on.”

“Oh! Oh oh oh! Wait, I forgot somethin’!” Ryuji is grinning like an idiot as Morgana creaks the door open. “I brought this!” And then produces from his school bag…

“ _ Is that an actual fucking gun _ ?!” Akira’s heartbeat spikes and his eyes go wide behind the mask. “Where did you even get that?!”

“Oh no! It’s cool! This is a model, I got it a few months ago from an airsoft shop in Shibuya! It looks totally real though doesn’t it?” His smile is broad and a bit predatory, like a very friendly shark. “I figured it might be good to fake someone out with though!”

“...Airsoft?” Akira relaxes a bit. 

“Yeah, I can take you by sometime if you want. The owner’s kinda scary but they have some real cool shit there.” Ryuji points the gun at the ceiling and puts his finger on the trigger. “See, nothing to worry about.” He pulls the trigger and the apparently extremely real gun goes off with a deafening retort in the small chamber. Morgana claps her hands to her large and presumably sensitive ears and Akira flinches hard.

“Ryuji! The hell?!” He clutches a hand to one ear, hoping that whine is going to fade and isn’t tinnitus.

A smattering of rubble falls onto Ryuji’s head as he stares dumbfounded before throwing the gun on the table and leaping back. “That was an airsoft gun before, I swear! I spent last night plinking targets in my bedroom!”

Morgana very gingerly removes her hands from her ears before racing to Ryuji and kicking him in the shin. “That  _ hurt _ , Ryuji!”

“Gah! That was right on a bruise! I didn’t know!” He’s hopping one legged and Akira realizes it is on what he’s beginning to suspect is Ryuji’s bad leg a moment before the limb collapses and Ryuji spills hard onto the floor.

“Stop! Morgana, wait!” And again he’s inserting himself before the two of them. “He didn’t know that was going to happen!” He extends a hand to Ryuji to help him, wincing, back to his feet. “Is this something about the...metaverse?”

Morgana bristles when he slips between the two but deflates contemplatively for a long second. “You know what? I think it is. We both saw it as a real gun when he drew it, and when he pulled the trigger it went off.” She hops onto the table and plucks it up, manipulating it with the air of a professional. Akira elects to not comment on that at least. She ejects the magazine and racks the slide, popping a single very real bullet into a tiny furred hand with practiced ease.  _ Where did she learn that? _ Akira muses, somehow more interested than in a perfectly normal seeming bullet. “By perceiving it to be real, it becomes real. Nice.” She puts the bullet into the magazine and reloads the pistol. “Ryuji, you might be a genius under all that stupid.”

“Thanks-Hey wait, what?!” He lights up.

“Oh take the compliment, man. You just found us a new weapon. And the best part is? Because it is real due to cognition, cognition probably is going to keep it loaded. Any shadow you pull iron on will assume you’re coming in loaded, and so it will be.” She offers the real-in-this-realm pistol to Ryuji.

He shakes his head and waves it off. “If that thing is real rather than for show, it should go with one of you who can actually fight.” He is resigned to his fate as backup, it seems. 

Morgana nods affirmatively and offers it to Akira who feels his outfit shift the moment he takes it from her. A hip holster phases into being alongside the sheath for his knife.  _ Convenient. _ He slips it in. “Time to go?”

Morgana nods in the affirmative. “Time to go.” She pushes the safe room door open and three phantoms slip out.

\------------------

They exit the safe room and vanish down one of the tunnels they ignored on their way out yesterday, descending deeper into a new part of the dungeon. With Morgana on point and Akira’s confidence boosted after that successful ambush earlier they make good time. One unavoidably guard they ambush successfully again, wasting the incubus and jack-o’-lantern inside in a blaze of blade and Persona power before either could fight back. 

“This is almost going too easily.” Akira slips in behind Morgana through some kind of vestibule marked with a flying banner before the next dungeon level.  _ Kamoshida’s Training Hall of Love, really? _ Akira grimaces as another scream echoes from behind it.  _ Yeah, real loving. _

“Duuuude, don’t say that. You’re just temptin’ fate.” Ryuji almost whines as he slinks in at the rear.

“This is pure skill, Ryuji, not dumb luck.” Morgana preens from the front of their column. “Now shush, I think I hear guards in the next set of halls. Keep quiet, keep to the corner.” Morgana creeps along and they spy on a duo of guards who are set up at the far end of the next corner.

“Report, warrior. Have you seen any sign of intruders?” 

The other one shakes its masked face negatively. “All quiet here, sir. Problems?”

“Hrm.” The other one stomps the ground with its spear’s butt. “We’ve had a patrol disappear from their station, and another one is late to report in. King Kamoshida doesn’t want any repeats of yesterday. I’ve got orders to go check up on the progress of training, you just keep eyes open out here.”

“Aye sir!” The knight at the door salutes with it’s blade as the other one steps into what must be the training hall itself 

“Well, guess we couldn’t coast secretly this whole way. We’re going to have to fight our way into that hall, and then ambush the one inside.” Morgana sighs. “You ready Akira?”

He leans over her head around the corner. “There’s no ambush this time, they’re staring right down the hall. Most of these guards become two monsters out of that ooze. If we don’t have the element of surprise though, should we split our focus or both focus on knocking one to pieces first?”

“Hrmph. I like that last one. It’ll charge to meet us when we come out. Break to our left, we’ll both stop whatever that is first.” Morgana’s scimitar is back from nowhere again.

Akira nods, takes a steadying breath, and charges forth. The knight which hadn’t seen their peeking faces in the dark of the tunnel from a distance can’t miss the two bodies with blades charging. It steps forwards once, twice, then the seizure and cracks on the armor hit it as it explodes and dissolves. From the sick slick forms one of the leering incubi imps and a new enemy. A fairy, barely a foot tall and sparkling with light in a blue dress. Akira wants to gape at it, but he and Morgana have work to do. 

They fall on the imp, scimitar and knife destroying it with a shriek before it can even react. The fairy flies right past them both in the mad rush, apparently expecting  _ someone _ to have tried to fight it. “Hey, thieves! You too good for me?!” It whirls in the air and raises a hand that crackles with sparks. Akira would have found it a bit amusing except for the fact a lightning bolt lances out and impacts him over the heart with a searing flash of pain and muscle seizure through his body.

_ Argh! What the hell?!  _ He struggles to remain standing and reassert control over spasming lungs. His chest hurts, inside and out, and he smells smoke. “The hell with you, fairy!” His banter is going to hell with the pain too, apparently. He draws the shiny new pistol from his hip, flicks what he hopes is the safety and pulls the trigger in a deafening bang. Thankfully the enhanced physicality he seems to benefit here from Arsène as a Persona ( _ I completely forgot to ask Morgana about those! _ ) seems to cover for his complete lack of any training besides playing Gun About in the Okina City arcade at least. He clips a wing and the fairy goes to the ground with a shriek and spray of very real seeming blood. 

He pushes to his feet and approaches her, gun levelled, and as his adrenaline begins to fade from the fight a sense of concern. So far these shadows they’d been fighting were monsters. Inhuman demons and cackling jack-’o-lanterns. This thing is shaped like a human woman on small scale, can talk, and is breathing heavily as she pushes herself up from prone. And there’s actual fear in her eyes as she looks up at him. Akira very suddenly isn’t the slick and dangerous thief breaking into a castle under the nose of an unrighteous king and fighting his demonic servants. He’s a young man, a teenager who is in far over his head, holding a gun on what seems like a very real woman. “You feel like surrendering, fairy?” He ventures.  _ Please surrender. _

“Hmph. You’ve got me beat, but you’re still nothing before the king.  _ Thief _ .” She spits the last line venomously.

Morgana races up behind Akira. “If you’ve got her held up, demand money or some kind of useful item or something for freedom. Shadows sometimes have weird stuff on them, might be useful!” She whispers into his ear. Which involves a flying leap and arms wrapped tight around his neck for a few asphyxiating moments before slipping away.

_ Well, can’t hurt to take expert advice _ . “Give us something worthwhile and we’ll let you go.”

“Aww, you’re going to just ask up front like that? And on a day when I forgot my purse at home!” The fairy titters a bit and then blanches as she touches her gunshot wound.

“Tragic, really. Then maybe you can just come with us and we’ll see if you might know anything useful.” Akira shrugs, keeping the gun on the girl.

“Bah! If she doesn’t have anything, she can go right to hell!” Morgana produces a slingshot and a very hard looking ball of cast metal. 

“Wait! No!” The fairy throws her arms up. “I just remembered something!” 

“Anything good?” Akira racks the slide of his gifted pistol dramatically, ejecting a bullet for emphasis.

“The best.” The fairy gives him a sharp smile. “I just remembered I’m not a shadow belonging to Kamoshida; I’m an entity that comes from the sea of human souls. My real name is Pixie! I am thou, and thou art I.” She staggers upright. “Please, take care of me Akira.”

_ How does she know my na-AAAH!  _ Akira is startled from his surprised internal reverie as the fairy dissolves into pure wisps of energy and races to his face, flowing into his mask in warm waves.  _ Huh. Doesn’t...hurt, I guess _ . Akira touches his mask gently. In addition to the burning presence of Arsène he feels another presence in his mind. Sharp, a bit giddy, but crackling with power.  _ Interesting _ .

“Akira! You alright?” Morgana hops his way. “What even was that?! It joined your mask!”

“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.” Morgana shakes her head emphatically in the negative. Well, that isn’t comforting to Akira that the expert on all things in this place didn’t know what is going on. “You got another fight in you?” Akira rolls his sore shoulders while Morgana cackles.

“Oh one more fight and more besides.” She slips to the next door. “You ready?”

Akira still aches but is feeling far better than he was even a minute ago. “Sure. Let’s do this. He readies his knife in hand and cracks the door open. They have a perfect ambush on the other knight which is still marching into the room.  _ How the hell did it not hear the battle and gunfire out here?  _ Akira isn’t sure why these knights have such garabage senses, but he isn’t going to question the good fortune of it. He and Morgana slink out, he makes another flying shoulder leap and strips it’s mask, and between the two of them they annihilate the jack-’o-lantern and pixie that pop into being. 

“Nice! You two kick ass!” Ryuji emerges from hiding at the entrance. The ‘Training Hall of Love’ is a huge chamber with a rushing stream across the middle and three huge iron barred viewing portals against the far wall. “So this is where the prisoners are?” He addresses Morgana.

“Most of them at least, assuming there’s no remainders like you saw yesterday.” She rubs her shoulders as a vicious scream comes from nearby, through one of the iron portals on the far wall. 

“Well alright! Let’s save these people!” Ryuji races away while Morgana’s exceptionally expressive face falls.

“He doesn’t think these are real people, does he?!” She looks up to Akira.

He stares down to match her gaze. “Are they not?”

“...okay, we maybe need to reconvene. This is bad.”

In the near distance Ryuji reaches the first viewing grate. “For real?!”

Akira races along to see what the hell has gotten to Ryuji. And in the words of a modern poet, he has to agree.  **_Is_ ** _ this for real?! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who forgot to post this from their laptop and is now trying to do a final check via phone? This guy.
> 
> This chapter has some experiments for me on writing the infiltrating group that is really a bit of personal testing the waters for the Palace proper, what feels most enjoyable to write and so on. As well as speeding up some of the tutorial elements that touch actual lore stuff. Not sure if that works as well as the actual active scenes but I am finding Morgana-sensei to be a fun way to present the character at this point. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading as ever. Finally actually committing to writing a longer fanfic has been a really enjoyable experience even if critically looking at my often bullshit grammar is a bit painful. Just a bit.


	8. Black Flag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryuji may say fuck this one time, as a treat.

_“Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.”_

_― H.L. Mencken_

04/12/20XX

Tuesday

After School

The Castle of Lust

Beyond each of the large, iron barred arches is a scene of torment playing in the room it looks down into. Students in the Shujin Academy gym uniform are being tormented. Akira and Ryuji both pace up and down the whole stretch, and for his own part Akira is too astounded at the blatant barbarism to even feel angry. That can come next.

In one room, students hold on to a volleyball net with both hands while knights lay into them with rods. In another, they run on a giant and racing treadmill for a single suspended pot of water, while at the rear of the treadmill a spiked log whirls to mulch those who slow down. And in the last, a single student is suspended upside down from the vault like ceiling while a cannon fires volleyballs again and again and again into their face. Akira recognizes this last one, the class rep from his class in 2-D. Yuuki Mishima, being pelted in the face by ball after ball. 

“This is bullshit! How messed up can one person get?! Morgana! Come on, how do we get these doors open?!” Beside each of the viewing arches is a heavy and locked iron door at the top of a flight of stone steps that descend into each chamber. “We have to get these people out of here!” Ryuji gets a grip and pulls and pulls, the door remaining firmly shut.

“Ryuji, no! You don’t get it, these people aren’t-” Morgana is tearing at her fur in agitation when she’s interrupted by the subjects in one of the chambers noticing their group and racing up stone stairs to whisper harshly at them.

“Stop! Stop, please!” It is a Shujin student, not one that Akira recognizes, a boy who looks like a third year. “You can’t! If we try to escape we’re going to be marked for execution, like you all!”

Ryuji reaches through the bars and grabs the student by the shirt, pulling him up to the bars. “You’re sayin’ you want to be trapped in here like this?!”

The student winces and then gives a nod with a choked sob. “It is better than the alternative…”

“Stop! Ryuji, stop!” Morgana hops onto a standing barrel full of who knows what to get eye level with Ryuji and Akira. “Are you two telling me your entire plan was to get in here and rescue these people?!”

“Well yeah, obviously.” Ryuji lets the other student go.

“We can’t just stand by and let whatever this is happen.” Akira nods along with his friend. 

Morgana actually screams in frustration, clutching her head. “These! _Are not_ ! **_Real_ ** !” Akira almost jumps at the explosion of emotion from their guide. “Both of you, listen to me! These are cognitions, they’re as much a part of this distortion as the castle! They’re how Kamoshida thinks of the students in the school, but not the students themselves! Do you think that this many could just up and vanish and nobody notices? Do you recognize any of them from class? _From today_?!”

“...My class rep is upside down in the last room getting nailed in the face with balls. I saw him less than an hour ago in person.” Akira feels a wave of embarrassment crest and wash over him.

Ryuji’s face falls into a sheepish mess. “Yeah, and I saw a few of these guys on their way to practice while waiting on Akira…Oh! Oh shit, what you said about how these are how Kamoshida thinks about people? I’m pretty sure everyone here is on the volleyball team, at least the men’s one. Does that mean…”

Morgana nods sadly. “That something pretty similar is happening to the real students in real life. Maybe not as over the top,” She adds as the cannon fires again and the cognitive Mishima gives another sharp yelp of pain in the distance. “But definitely similar. This is really horrible, whatever is going on in those practices has to be bad to make it show up in here like this.”

“The school’s a castle and the volleyball team are abused slaves. Kamoshida’s beyond messed up. Shit’s so on point it makes me sick!” Ryuji kicks the barrel Morgana is perched on in frustration, sending their companion to the ground with a hop and yelp. He pulls his phone out. “Maybe if we get some kind of pictures we can go to the police or somethi-Shit!” He shoves it back in his pocket. “Camera app won’t open. Yours?” He turns to Akira who can’t even exit out of the MetaNav on his phone while they’re in this place apparently.

“Not like it would matter, pictures in this place would immediately raise questions.” Akira returns his phone to his pocket with a sigh. “Maybe we can try talking to members of the team directly?”

“Maybe. Better than nothin’ at least.” Ryuji heaves a heavy sigh and glances back into the chambers where the cognitions are being tormented. “How effed up is Kamoshida if a place like this is basically the inside of his head?”

“Very. But we can’t do anything to help the real students from here. Morgana, we’re really sorry to have dragged you along with us on a dead end.” Akira adjusts his gloves and mentally begins charting the way back out. They’re deep in and guards are still everywhere, but they got in with only a few fights and he bets they can slip out the same.

The not-a-cat doesn’t try any jibes at them, their downcast moods relatively open on their faces. “Look, let’s get you guys out of here and back home. I might have a proposal for you guys about this, but we should save that for after you’re both rested and had some time to digest everything I told you and that has happened here today.” She crosses the bridge over the racing stream and to the door out. “Come on, let’s go.”

\------------------------

Almost! They almost make it without another run in with a guard, but as is becoming a pattern in Akira’s life almost means ‘didn’t, and also have a catastrophic negative twist as a treat’. _If I never have to see Kamoshida without pants again, it will still be far too late._ He grimaces.

It was in the entrance hall, in their last dash out of the dungeons and across the checked marble floor that the ambush came for them. The missing patrols in the dungeons must have been enough to tip security off, and while they didn’t know their exfiltration point he hoped they must have known they had to cross the hall into the body of the castle to get there. It was the only way he could explain the drop they got on them. The huge wooden chandeliers above were apparently able to take the weight of at least one armored knight, and a constellation of them fall from on high like meteors. The trio is surrounded on all sides. 

“God _damn_ it! We were so effin’ close!” Ryuji stomps his foot and desperately eyes the far hall. One door to the left in there and they were home free!

“Ugh, you knaves again?” At the top of the sweeping split stair that dominates the back end of the room, leaning on the railing that is directly before the enormous painting of himself, Kamoshida appears. _No, not Kamoshida. Shadow Kamoshida._ Akira forcibly disentangles the two in his mind. The same being, but not the same entity. He’s joined by a knight in shining golden plate armor, with a crimson shield and shining silver blade. 

King Kamoshida leans against the railing, disdain evident in his entire frame. “You seriously came back to break into the dungeons and escape the same way? Again? You’re hopeless, I’m probably doing you a favor by separating you from your lives.” 

“Oh the hell with you you big effin’ windbag!” Ryuji spits on the floor. “We know what you’re doing to the volleyball team, and we’re going to tear you down!”

Kamoshida’s shadow leans against the railing and contorts his face into an exaggerated display of concern. “Oh Sakamoto, how far you’ve fallen from the star of the track team! If only you’d listened to your betters!”

Akira shoots a glance aside to Ryuji. “Star of the track team? Really?”

Shadow Kamoshida laughs. “Oh, you mean you’ve followed him this whole way in without even knowing? Ryuji Sakamoto, the Track Traitor, whose violent actions managed to not only ruin his own dreams…” Shadow Kamoshida very pointedly looks at Ryuji’s leg that Akira notes he favors so heavily. “But those of the rest of the team! Truly tragic.” The shadow leers down at them. “Fool! You blindly trusted this ape, and he has managed to drag you down with him, power of Persona or not!” 

Akira trusts Ryuji’s character more than just about anyone else in his life at this moment after two days of crisis side by side with him, so this isn’t doing wonders to quash the mounting fury in his breast. “Yeah, and you’re torturing your own students for what? The fun of it? I’ll take the Track Traitor, you piece of shit!”

“Ugh. Well, I see that one won’t listen to reason. Guards, kill them both. No repeats of yesterday or I’ll have your heads.” King Kamoshida waves a hand dismissively, and as one the guards circling them twitch in a silent seizure, armors cracking and bursting into blood-dark ooze, and a series of impossibly giant black horses with two wickedly curling horns surround them, eyes glowing a baleful red.

Morgana gasps. “Oh _shit_! Ryuji, get between us” 

Akira glances her way. “Problem?”

“You mean besides that we’re surrounded? Those are bicorn! They’re only weak to lightning, and tough as hell without it! And we! Are! Surrounded!” She has her blade in hand all the same, grimacing at the thought of the fight to come. At the mention of lightning, a deep part in Akira’s psyche stirs.

“Lightning?” He touches his mask. “We might have that. Pixie!” It vanishes in a burst of blue fire and the diminutive flying woman manifests rather than the ghostly demon of Arsène. Morgana is so startled she almost falls over in her staggering back from him.

“What the-A second Persona? How can you have a second Persona?! _How did you turn a shadow into one?!_ ” She looks about ready to drop her blade in shock.

“Is that not normal?” Akira glances her way. “Actually no. Later. Pixie, fry them!” He reaches deep inside to find the center of that sharp energy he felt before and the fairy conjures up a lightning bolt that drops one of the bicorn right onto it’s knees. “Hah! Go to hell, Kamoshida, we’ve got you beat!” He glances down to Morgana, ready to try and bolster her, which is when one of the surrounding horse monsters kicks him hard in the center of the back with its front hooves.

Akira felt real agony for the first time in his life yesterday, in the waves of pain as he formed a contract with Arsène. Compared to that the bruises and the beatings were like warmups, and he’d sort of hoped to never again experience anything so awful and let time and human stubbornness banish that trauma from his recollection. His mistake for hoping, really. That horned horse’s kick shatters ribs. His lungs burn and scream at him and he falls to his knees, heaving blood out of his respiratory system. If he doesn’t die right here and now, he is going to have a lot of explaining to do for Dr. Takemi.

“Oh, hell! Akira, hold on, I’ve got you-” Morgana tries to come to his rescue, but gets a swift horse kick to the side of her giant head and goes down too.

_We are going to die. We are going to die and this is entirely my fault._ Akira almost wishes the feeling of his lungs slowly filling with liquid, each breath harder than the last, was enough to drive the guilt out. But no, apparently he was going to die and agonize over it too. Shadow Kamoshida and his gold knight descend to survey the slaughter at last, the king resting his slippered foot on his back and just grinding against the ruined ribs. The strength to properly scream flees Akira at this point. He manages a wheezy whine that in no manner conveys the agonizing pain he feels.

Shadow Kamoshida grinds his foot. “What did you do, come here on a whim following that ape?” Akira hacks up more blood as Ryuji, between him and Morgana, falls to his knees. “Oh look, the ape is getting emotional. Does he finally realize he’s gotten himself killed?” The shadow laughs in delight. “How could you have forgotten my generosity, my kindness even, in supervising track practice! And yet here you are, defying me again.”

Ryuji, on his knees and on the verge of weeping, still scavenges a few last bits of defiance.” That wasn’t practice! The runs without water, the constant impossible drills, that shit was abuse. You weren’t supervisin’ shit, you were looking for any excuse to shut us down!” He slams a fist against the hard stone floor. “And I just had to give you one!”

King Kamoshida throws his arms wide. “Well, that’s what you get for being an eyesore and distracting from my volleyball team.” He chuckles. “And had your coach not caught onto that, he’d still be with the school too. Maybe I need to break your other leg to drive the lesson home, huh?” He gives Akira a swift kick in the already injured ribs. _Great, time to vomit up more blood_. 

“Ryuji…” Akira wheezes out. “Don’t let him win…” He coughs again. _Oh God, did I feel that rib float away?_

“You took away my ability to run, got our coach fired and disbanded the track club, and you still imagine you’re the hero here?” Ryuji pushes himself to his knees, glaring daggers at the king.

“And now these worthless scum are going to die because they sided with trash like you!” Shadow Kamoshida cackles. “Dead for nothing!”

Ryuji shoves himself to his feet. “Trash? No, that’s you Kamoshida. You just use people and fuck up anything that gets in your way!” _My precious baby used the eff word, I’m so proud_ . Akira doesn’t even know how to shut his irreverent psyche off even while he’s in exquisite agony. He hacks up another alveola or three of blood while Ryuji levels an accusing finger at the shadow. “You use people, you abuse the people in your care, and for what? Your ego coachin’ a high school volleyball team?” Ryuji laughs, clear and bright. “You’re the piece of shit here, you son of a bitch! _Now stop looking at me with that smug look on your face!_ ” He snarls before pain like nothing he’d ever felt becomes his reality.

\------------------

Ryuji Sakamoto was dying, he was sure of it. Fair enough. Everyone comes with an expiration date and all, but he certainly didn’t expect it to come in the middle of an otherworldly castle while a cat and his new friend watch. He screams as the agony steals the strength from his limbs and drops him to all fours, staring into his own reflection in the marble floor. His reflection that smiles up at him with the predatory grin of a shark and golden eyes.

**“Kept me waiting, huh?”** It speaks in his own voice somehow, cutting through the deafening pounding of blood in his ears. **“You want power, correct? Power to finally do something about those in your life who would see you and yours ground underfoot? Good. Then let us form a contract.”** The pain in his head only gets worse, like arcing lightning is running through his skull and down his spine, a thousand thousand little needles of pain. He’s reduced to writhing on the floor, screaming to the heavens as the thing with his face carries on, now crouching down next to him and outside of the reflection. 

Those golden eyes gleam dangerously as it leans in over him. **“Your name is already disgraced by that one.”** He points straight at the king, who is trying desperately to order the bicorn to stop this and intervene before it is too late. The equine shadows are transfixed by these events, seemingly unable to unwilling to act. **“So what’s stopping you from hoisting the black flag and wreaking havoc?!”** His doppelganger touches Ryuji’s screaming face and slowly fades away. **“The other you who dwells within desires it thus! I am thou, thou art I...the skull of rebellion is your flag henceforth!”** The pain in his skull fades as a metal mask materializes on his face. Ryuji staggers to his feet, lungs heaving. The mask hurts where it meets his skin, a crackling pain and the mounting boom of thunder deep in his soul aching for release. He knows what has to happen now, both instinctively and because of what he saw happen with Akira yesterday. _I can’t. He ripped his own effin’ face off!_ Ryuji also remembers the blood. A lot of blood.

“Hmph. What do you think you can do, Sakamoto?” King Kamoshida glares at him from across the distance, eyes disdainful as he steps firmly on Akira’s back which elicits a strangled cry and more blood hacked onto the floor. That stokes fury in him like a lightning bolt out of the blue.

_If Akira can do it to protect me, I can do the same thing for him._ Kamoshida’s disdainful gaze is met with his own furious glare from beneath the mask, eyes glowing gold. “You chose the wrong people to mess with you son of a bitch!” Both hands fly up to the metal, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers in. _Just like rippin’ off a bandage,_ he thinks. With an arc of blood and final scream of pain, Ryuji is engulfed in a bonfire of blue flame that roars to the ceiling and buffets all the shadows back. And he feels effin’ _amazing_.

When it fades away, he’s armored in a black leather jacket, protective plates of metal sewn on the back and joints, sturdy yellow leather gloves with knuckledusters sewn in, and behind him? _Oh hell yeah_! A skeletal pirate in a tattered uniform standing on the deck of bobbing ghost ship. Sure the boat was a bit small, but that just made her captain look like a surfer. “Right on…Wassup, Persona?” He gives Kamoshida the huge, toothy grin of a shark as his eyes drop back down to the king. “Time for payback, shithead!” Morgana and Akira, who somehow managed to pick himself up when he wasn’t looking, join Ryuji to face the King. “Let’s do this!”

\-----------------

Akira watches from the floor as Ryuji disappears into the inferno, tearing the metal skull from his face. He’d been on the inside of that whole experience yesterday, in too much pain or confusion or the raw high of his contract with Arsène to appreciate how brutal that experience was from the outside. He tries to push himself to his feet as the powerful gales washing from the fire finally get Kamoshida off his back but his arms give out. 

“Akira, hold still…Zorro, _Dia_!” Morgana appears at his side and with a flash of blue and green glow from her swashbuckling Persona, Akira feels pain through his body fade as his bones knit back together and ruptured internal flesh heals. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do this yesterday, those injuries had been on you long enough to set. These were fresh so…” 

“It’s fine.” He pushes himself to his feet, eyes locked on the raging inferno which is finally beginning to fade. He feels like a new man with that pain ripped away. The fires fade and unveil Ryuji and his ghostly Persona. “Nice Persona, though. Let’s go.” He wills one foot to move, then the other, and swiftly the two of them join the punk.

“I never knew you had it in you, blondie!” Morgana produces her blade. 

“Bah!” The golden knight strides forwards. “Troublemaking rebels! You dare to bother King Kamoshida with your distasteful presences?” The King meanwhile is beating a fast retreat up the stairs and out of reach of the battle that is brewing. _Coward._ Akira glares after him. The golden knight explodes into black ichor and from it rises a...different knight? _Really letting us down here on a creative level, shadows._ Though this one is a demonic looking giant in red plate armor, with wicked horns curling from the front of his helmet and mounted on a raging horse that is ten foot tall at the shoulder. More impressive than the tacky gold armor. The bicorns form up around them with the huge knight taking up leadership.

Ryuji raises a hand and his Persona mirrors him, one skeletal arm replaced at the elbow with a cannon. “Let’s do this, Captain Kidd! Blast ‘em!” The cannon booms and lightning arcs out, lancing one of the horses and sending it flat. A second blast flattens another.

“Ryuji, keep those horses out of the fight! Fry them if you’ve got enough strength for it. Morgana, with me! We’re going to double team the big guy.” Akira races towards the gargantuan knight without stopping to check if Morgana is following or not. She’s smart, he’s sure she’ll keep up. He fires his pistol at it as they approach, either not connecting or that knight’s armor being more bulletproof than anything should be. The figure lashes out at him with it’s equally enormous spear, scoring a glance across his shoulder but left wide open to Morgana’s flying leap with her scimitar that catches it on a join in the armor and elicits a grunt of pain. 

“Insignificant pests!” The bloodied spear is swept around to try and catch the feline form, but she’s already gone and he gets nothing but empty air. 

“Too slow!” Morgana cackles, while the air around the dueling trio crackles with lightning strikes coming from Ryuji’s ghost pirate of a Persona and from the air itself as his battling supercharges the atmosphere. A bolt arcs between the knight’s spear and his own armor, leaving a black strike burn.

“This is effin’ awesome!” Ryuji is riding high on the wave of emotion, one of the bicorn horses vanishing into ash. The surviving ones focus on him, blasting him with cutting winds just like Zorro summons at Morgana’s behest. Ryuji staggers and a deep bleeding wound opens on his side from the winds, but his smile never fades. Captain Kidd vaporizes another one and a heavy looking metal pipe that manifests in Ryuji’s hands sees to the other one.

“You’re outnumbered, shadow. Surrender!” Akira flips his knife as the trio of them spread around the seemingly only lightly wounded knight.

“Never! You scum don’t have what it takes to kill me!” The spear lances out once more and gets Morgana good, a shallow wound on anyone else goes half through her smaller torso.

“Shit!” Ryuji charges the knight for that. “You get the hell away from her!” The pipe slams against an armored thigh and all he gets for his trouble is the spear haft on the knight’s backswing.

“I’m...fine…” Morgana struggles upright, manifesting Zorro behind her who heals that wound with a wave of his rapier and a flash of green. “Takes more than that to keep me down.”

“Any bright ideas on how to drop this guy then?” Akira leaps away from a spear thrust. 

“No armor is perfect, we just need to get enough good hits in to punch through or aim for a weak point! Can you think of anything?!” She leaps and slashes at it, scimitar glancing off heavy plate.

Akira takes mental inventory of what they can actually do and tries to conjure something better than ‘keep hitting it and hope it doesn’t get a killing blow in on us’. _Come on, come on, there’s always something we’re missing._ He tightens his grip on his knife and tries to calm the adrenaline raging in his mind. And then it hits him like a flash of lightning. He parries a spear thrust with his knife then races forwards. “Arsène!” He tears his mask off in a burst of blue fire and his inner demon manifests. “Punish him!” The demon cackles in it’s deep voice and the knight is struck bodily with the accursed miasma of whatever energy Arsène commands. Not enough to drop it, but Akira was just looking to distract it so what he does next doesn’t result in him being speared out of the air. He leaps, twisting in the air to land on the knight’s shoulders. Just like ambushing a shadow, he reaches down and pulls it’s head back by the helmet.

“Get off me, scum!” The knight tries to thrash out of his grip, but Akira is on tight. With its head twisted back, the chain mailed neck is wide open. Akira hopes that what he vaguely recalled about chainmail from a late night internet binge after some fantasy manga was right and drives his knife point down with all the force he can muster into the join of neck and shoulder. Either he was right or the metaverse cognition stuff was on his side, and the blade sinks in deep. 

Akira leaps off as the knight gives a cry of pain. “Ryuji! Lightning rod knife! Fry him!”

“Oh hell yeah. You heard him, captain!” The pirate levels his cannon arm and looses a storm on the metal knife, which conducts every ampere of magical lightning into the knight. When the arcs of golden energy finally die down, the knight slumps in his saddle. Spear dipping, smoke emerging from every join of his armor, the shadow _still_ tries to push itself upright.

“For...the...king…” It wheezes out.

“Everyone, tear into it!” Akira isn’t going to give it the chance to rally. The trio moves as one, the momentum of battle peaking in a vicious all out attack that falls on the warrior from all sides. Akira tears his knife free in the melee, Ryuji knocks the rider from his seat with hammering blows, and Morgana descends like a cutting star and removes the head from the rest of him. Both knight and horse disappear into ash clouds by the time they’re done.

Akira locks eyes with Kamoshida who is watching from the second floor balcony. “Show’s over, Kamoshida. You lose.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t shit.” Ryuji rests his pipe across his shoulder. “You wanna come down and try your luck, asshole?”

Kamoshida scowls from his vantage point. “You still don’t get it, do you? This is _my_ castle, the world of _my_ desires. I can do whatever I want here. Everyone loves me here! Everyone that is except for rebel scum like you. Isn’t that right, babe?” He throws an arm around a figure who emerges from further back than they can see on the next level.

_I was wondering where the women were, if all the tortured cognitions we saw were the boy’s volleyball team_. Akira’s gut twists as Kamoshida’s cognitive version of the blonde girl, Takamaki, makes herself known. Oh sure, she’s beautiful. So far the cognitions they’d seen seemed like pretty accurate copies of the students they recognized. But everything else about this doll was Kamoshida’s messed up vision. Glassy and dull eyes, squeezed into a too small leopard print bikini that would be skimpy in most porn setups, and giggling like a child.

“That’s like, totally right.” The girl ( _Doll_ , Akira has to remind himself to avoid losing his cool. _A psychic doll_ ) drapes herself across Kamoshida’s torso. “You’re the best! Everyone here knows it!”

Ryuji looks like he’s about to blow a gasket behind the metal skull mask that sits on the top half of his face. “ _This_ is what you think of her?! You don’t know shit about Takamaki, Kamoshida.” He spits. 

“And what does a punk like you know about women, Sakamoto?” The King strokes a hand down the girl’s ( _Doll! Doll! Calm the fuck down!_ ) side, making very sure they see it pass over the curve of a breast, of the hip. “I’ve had more in my bed than you’ll ever get a shot with, all of them so happy to be with a winner, a hero!”

Akira feels like he’s going to crack a tooth, and Ryuji’s hand flies to his mask. “You sick bastard! Come on, Captain-” He’s cut short by Morgana.

“Ryuji! It is just a cognition! Not the real one. Don’t let him get to you! We need to go, now!” Doors all along the next floor and the one they came from the dungeons fly open, knights pouring out. “He’s been stalling for reinforcements! Let’s go!”

Ryuji glares up at Shadow Kamoshida. “We’ll be back, you bastard. You’re going down in the real world too.”

That gets an uproar of laughter from the king. “Come at me whenever you want, scum. I’ll be waiting!”

And once more they flee through the castle, mocking laughter echoing behind them. They vanish into the door with their exit before anyone else can follow them into the hall, and out the vent unseen.

\--------------------------

Morgana looks up at her two companions as all three of them crouch at the base of the wall, lungs heaving. “Both of you, quiet!” They try to slow their breathing and she cocks one of her sharp ears back the way they came from.

The door in the small study they exit by opens and the heavy metal tread of a knight enters. “See anyone?”

“No sir!” Another voice replies. “Must have gone ahead then!” The feet retreat and the door slams shut. 

_Good, the way in and out is still hidden._ She relaxes while the two much taller boys pick themselves up. Sakamoto seems to finally have noticed his clothing has changed too. _What a dope. But he’s been good in a pinch, and Akira has been great. Maybe with the two of them we can get deeper into Mementos…_

“Dude, what am I wearing?” Ryuji tugs on his jacket and the red ascot that appeared on his neck.

“I don’t know, looks pretty good on you. Got a real classic bike gang/pirate fusion look going.” Akira shrugs. 

“Well, I guess it looks better than a magician or whatever your getup is.” He laughs as he takes the metal mask off his face to look it over. While Akira’s white mask appears porcelain and has a faintly avian stripe to its shape, there’s no mistaking this. The face of a human skull from the upper teeth to empty eye sockets to the frontal curve of the cranium, worked in dark metal.

“I think I’m supposed to be like a modern gentleman thief.” Akira adjusts his vest and tugs at the lapels of his coat. “I kind of like it. Feels like something you could rob the Louvre in, you know?”

“Yeah, well unless breaking into the whatever-”

“Louvre. It’s an art museum in Paris, dude.”

“The point is,” Ryuji sighs. “The point is that unless that helps us figure out what to do with Kamoshida, it doesn’t do us much good besides lookin’ cool.” 

Morgana raps him on the side of the knee with her tiny fist. “These outfits protect you from distortions in the Palace, idiot. We covered this already!”

“It has been an effin’ crazy hour, cat! Sorry if I don’t have notes prepared! Do you have any bright ideas on what to do about Kamoshida then?!”

Morgana puffs herself up. “In fact I do. And I’ll share them with you two hapless idiots...tomorrow. I don’t want to have to explain things twice, and you both could use a rest. Oh, and first…” She reaches deep inside herself, where the power of her own inner rebellion slumbers. “Zorro!” The powerfully built rogue comes back into being to flash both the boys with healing. The new bumps and scrapes and cuts from the battle stitch themselves back shut.

“Huh. Thanks.” Akira examines his arm where the spear thrust just sealed itself up as he watched. 

“Can’t have my apprentices dying of gangrene or something.” Morgana gives him a cheerful pat on the back, reaching up high. “And look, you guys do what you think you need to do with Kamoshida, but if that doesn’t go anywhere I want to cut a deal with you. I give you my plan, but you help me with my memories and form.”

“Hey, we already said we’d help. You don’t need to bribe us or anythin’.” Ryuji looks actually a bit wounded. 

“Consider it professional pride as a thief. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” She shrugs and then almost jumps as Akira reaches down and actually gives her back a tentative poke. “Not literally! Look, just get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The gray eyed one nods. He’s got a real poker face when he isn’t angry or indulging in that predatory smile he lets slip after a particularly effective ambush and victory. Not like Ryuji, who wears every emotion on his sleeve for anyone to read. 

“Come on, man.” Ryuji sighs and gives Morgana a farewell wave. “I could eat a horse then sleep for a whole day.”

“I felt the same yesterday, the contract really takes it out of you doesn’t it?” He falls into step besides the punk.

“Yeah. Come on, I’ve got an idea how we might be able to get somethin’ that’s real on Kamoshida. We can figure it out over food, I’ll buy. There’s a beef bowl place in Shibuya we can hit up before splitting up…” The two of them fade from existence in the metaverse as they walk off, leaving Morgana alone.

“Yeah, good luck with that.” She sighs. “The only way to really get to Kamoshida is on this side, if he’s really as dug in as it sounds. Well, they’ll see. Maybe they’ll get lucky.” 

Morgana follows the footsteps of the pair across the drawbridge, vanishing from the Palace too. She has all night to figure out a few things on the other side of the veil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The action scene in this was fun to write. I don't really plan to linger over long when they raid the palaces in this later on so much as hit the high points, but I'm having a really enjoyable time writing the action beats so hopefully they only improve from here. 
> 
> I wasn't planning to make quotes at the start of chapters a recurring thing, but I don't know. Maybe I'll start slapping them on the Awakening chapters if I can find good ones that tie into themes. The H.L. Mencken one is a long term personal favorite though, so of course I was going to slap it onto this one. 
> 
> I also omitted Morgana's simping over cognitive Ann which always felt weird in game to me. Oh that terribly misguided crush on her is going to still exist, but of all the cast Morgana should most clearly know to differentiate cognitions from actual people. Don't drool of Kamoshida's weird psychic blow up sex doll Ann, instead save it for the actual one. She'll be here soon enough! Next couple chapters are coming along decently though I think will wind up being a bit shorter than these last two. I'm not trying to one up myself in word count constantly, but end them where feels most appropriate. 
> 
> But anyway, thanks for reading as ever and any critique or feedback is of course welcome.


	9. The Arcana is the Means by Which All is Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira and Ryuji talk backgrounds, and the Velvet Room has a gift.

04/12/20XX

Tuesday

After School

Shibuya

Ryuji was lost in thought while he and Akira rode the subway to Shibuya station. His brain was whirling and he felt more tired than he had even when the track team had their most brutal practices under Kamoshida’s tenure as assistant coach. Maybe he was just  _ that  _ out of shape, or maybe the physical strain and then constant mental stress of awakening and powering his Persona were just that intense.  _ Shit though, I should start working out again either way. Maybe get Akira for company...  _ He sighs heavily. At least they were about to stuff their faces with meat bowls, small consolation but still good. He had a lot to think on, while Akira was clearly using the train ride to take stock of his possessions. For some reason his schoolbag disappears when he was in that magician getup and reappeared when back in the real world, but from the brief widening of the eyes and rapidly burying of what he saw inside under books Ryuji had to guess that his model pistol decided to appear there. 

Actually, for that matter his bag poofed when he awoke to his Persona! He just hadn’t even thought of it until now!  _ God damn am I beat! _

Akira looks way better than he feels, which provokes a tiny twinge of envy from the exhausted punk, but Ryuji remembers how the guy looked after the same experience yesterday and then had to sit through class. The guy’s face is a blank slate most of the time, save for those moments in the castle that hot anger and moments of manic glee seemed to leak out, but Ryuji had been able to read exhaustion on him on the roof. And if  _ he  _ was seeing past that gray stare...yeah, Akira had to have been dead on his feet.

Ryuji waits till the steaming hot bowls are in front of them at Ore no Boko before trying to float his plan past Akira. “So, what we saw with the volleyball team in the palace…”

Akira looks at him from behind the steamed up lenses of his glasses while shoveling food. Really ruining the cool, collected image honestly. “Mhmmph?”

“Well, we know that was how Kamoshida was thinkin’ of them right? Which means those tortures might be related to what he does in practice. Maybe if we corner some of them, talk like we know the details, one of them might crack and admit to things. Somethin’ we can take to the cops that even Kobayakawa can’t just ignore. Tomorrow’s a volleyball rally, supposed to be hypin’ up the team at the start of the year so we’ll all be getting out of class to go to that. We can dip out after it goes for a bit since students aren’t held long and people usually spread out, and start looking the halls for team members. See what we can get out ‘em.”

His companion swallows. “Not sure I want to go to the police, but given what he’s doing...that’s the right call. Yeah.”

“I’m sorry if that’s effin up your plans to lay low or anything, but that bird has flown the poop already. People were talking about your record before we even got to class yesterday...” Ryuji sighs into his own food and piles some ginger on top before he gets going on his.

“Coop, man. Coop. And yeah, how did that happen?” Akira toys with the egg on his bowl, breaking it with his chopsticks and idly stirring it.

“How do you effin’ think? Kamoshida opened his big mouth.” Ryuji’s fingers clench tight around his chopsticks.

“He’s a piece of shit, we know that now after...well, today. But why are you so sure?” Akira pokes his bowl.

“He wrecks anythin’ he doesn't agree with. Clubs or people. He probably just didn’t like that Shujin was going to try and add delinquent reform to its accolades or somethin’ like that’. That’s what he did with me.” Ryuji sighs. “Nobody will believe shit from me anymore.” 

Akira pops a bite of his bowl into his mouth and chews contemplatively for a moment. “What happened?”

Ryuji tenses, then relaxes.  _ If anyone deserves to know _ … “I’m...ugh. My mom raised me alone. My dad was around for a few years, but all I remember was him drinking and…” He pauses, debating for a moment how much to share. “Hitting mom, sometimes. He left when I was in early years of school, no big loss. Mom has a good job, she’s done a lot to raise me alone. He was just a leech that had been around since college for her, she was the real responsible one. Thing is, it ain’t something I exactly shared around, you know? Somehow Kamoshida found out and started needlin’ me in practices about it….”

Akira’s face sets in what Ryuji is beginning to call ‘neutral-angry’ in his head. He is trying to clamp down on emotions, but also is deeply troubled by them. “And then?”

“I lost my shit one day, he was ridin’ my ass for my sprint time. It was nothin’ in the end…” Ryuji sighs. “But he mentioned my dad and I just lost it. I punched him on the jaw, and then he swept the effin’ legs. My knee was ruined and he broke the fibula below it. Neither healed right and extended rehab for it would have taken us moving to be nearer a specialist clinic on the regular, which was’t in the cards. I can sort of run like a regular person, but it hurts like you’d not believe after. If I try to push like real sprints it just goes out.”

“Holy hell, dude.” Akira straightens. “How is he even still here?”

“Because I struck first, because the rest of the track team is pissed at me for ruining things for them, and because the principal will ignore anything short of a public murder from the guy. It was ‘self defense’, never mindin’ that he’s over six foot and built like a statue while I was a lanky ass first year” Ryuji sighs. “But you and me, we both know damn well what he’s doing to the volleyball team, right? Plus that creepy shit with Takamaki, right?”

Akira nods.

“Yeah, exactly. So, what about you?”

Akira stiffens and that slate gray pokerface slips back into being. “What about me?”

Ryuji sighs and pokes his beef bowl a bit to stall for time. “What’s your actual story, man? I’m not going to press you on this if it is super personal or shit, but I just confessed my whole story to you. The criminal record thing has been racin’ around school, and it’s like the assholes are trying to invent more crazy crimes for you to have done each time. You ain’t killed anyone or else you’d not be here, but you’d be amazed how many people are sayin’ that.”

Akira stares into his own bowl glumly, eats a bit and puts his chopsticks down. “I know you had no way of knowing this, but this place is making me super homesick, so maybe why it might be hurting a bit to dig this up.” He sighs. “Assault charge. Convicted, put on probation, shipped out here because part of the terms of my probation is continuing my education and Shujin was the only school that wanted to voluntarily take a reform case in short order that my parents could find.”

Ryuji’s eyes go wide. “So that rumor’s for real? You ain’t exactly the hardcore criminal lookin’ type, man.”

“Only a bit. “ Akira stares at his bowl long enough that Ryuji has to do something just to break the tension. So he does the guy a favor, loading him up with ginger from the small condiment bowl too. “Whoa! What the hell, man? That’s a ton!”

“Trust me, it’s great. And you were spacing out there hardcore dude, have you noticed you do that sometimes?” Ryuji laughs.

“Yeah, sorry. I get lost in thought sometimes. So, uh. Arrest.” He takes a bite of the spice loaded beef. “Huh, you’re right. That  _ is  _ amazing! Anyway, it was nothing like you’re probably thinking. I was walking home late after school, this was back in early March, and heard some yelling. There was this drunk guy harassing a woman, she was screaming for help. He was trying to force her into a car, her shirt was torn open...it was looking like a bad situation. So I got between them. I don’t even think I touched him, but it all happened so fast, he tripped and fell flat on his face on the sidewalk.” Akira laughs. “Drunk asshole. But when the cops got there, he pressured the woman to testify I assaulted them. It sounds like he had her do something shady with money and was holding that over her, but I don’t...I don’t know, and it was  _ her _ testimony with his story that got me rammed through the system like I was. And a few weeks later, here I am.” 

Ryuji is livid, even while Akira seems like he has been physically drained repeating the story. “What the hell?! How much shittier can an asshole get?! So you help some woman out, she throws you under the bus for a dick who was assaultin’ her, and now you’re out here? 

“Yeah. What’s done is done, man. I can’t believe I got thrown into a school with someone like Kamoshida, though.”

“How about your family? You didn’t really mention them…”

“My parents were…” Akira muses for a long second. “I think they both approved what I did, even if the legal consequences weren’t great. Dad is a teacher, I  _ know  _ that this shit isn’t good for him but he put on a strong face. Mom’s a reporter, I think she’s the one who most approved of the doing the right thing and damn the consequences angle of what happened, but my little sister…” Akira muses.

“It wasn’t good, was it?” Ryuji frowns..

“No. Almost all my friends cut me off after the arrest, and my maybe girlfriend didn’t..well, it went from maybe to not at all. Rin didn’t have anything to do with what happened but because she’s the violent delinquent’s sibling she got the same treatment. Her best friend at least stuck through with her, but more than anything else I think this specifically is what hurts the most about everything.” Akira’s normally lean frame feels almost gaunt to Ryuji’s eyes as the guy looks like he is folding in as he relays the story. 

Ryuji nods. “You can take whatever happens to you, but didn’t expect blowback on your family.” He remembers the expression on his mother’s face when the two of them left Shujin after the disciplinary hearing, still having to carry himself on crutches. And then  _ her  _ apologizing to him in the car for being a single mother. “Yeah, I know how that feels. We’ve got more in common than I thought, man.” 

Akira muses on that, but doesn’t ask Ryuji what he means specifically. Thankfully. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

“We got some time to kill before the subways aren’t slammed. Unless your guardian’s got you on an early curfew, you might want to just chill around here.” Ryuji powers down more of his bowl. “I can show you an arcade around here I like if you want to hang and talk less heavy shit than Kamoshida and all that.”

Akira brightens up at that. “Sure, I can kick your ass in Gun About a few times. First though... “ He has his phone out and takes a picture of Ryuji with food halfway to his mouth before the blonde can stop him.

“What’s that about?” Ryuji talks around a mouth full of food.

“Sending a picture to my sister to prove I made a friend. She’s 12 and at that annoying as hell stage between being a bratty kid and bratty teenager. She’s been messaging me this whole time we’ve been talking to tell me to go take pictures in Shibuya for and has been getting  _ super  _ annoyed I’ve been ignoring her.” Akira talks and taps on his phone as he talks. 

“So instead of just takin’ a few pictures on the street after we finish eatin’ you’re gonna say you’re out with a friend and just drive her up the wall? You really like gettin’ under people’s skin, don’t you?”

“It’s an older brother thing. But right now getting a rise out of people at school by being polite is one of the few joys in my day, so maybe I’ve got a problem.” Akira pockets his phone again.

“Well, just don’t piss off any teachers or the student council or anythin’. You’re on pretty thin ice with that record, dude. Anyway, come on, I’ll show you the arcade. There’s also a bookstore around here I get my manga at when havin’ to mark time before the subways clear, lots of cool shit in Shibuya. Plus the underground mall right below us.” Ryuji devours the rest of his bowl in record time, ready to play tour guide and get moving. He’s tired as hell, but after all the running and fighting today his knee is getting stiff on him and he needs to move it to work some of that pain out.

If Akira notices the wince as he gets going, the guy doesn’t comment.

\--------------

04/12/20XX

Tuesday

Nighttime

Yongen-Jaya

Sojiro is alone in the cafe when Akira makes it home tonight, reading a newspaper at the bar and smoking. He glances up as Akira’s entrance rings the small bell chime at the door. “Ah, you made it back. And you actually went to school today?” He gives a glare over the top of his glasses.

“Whole day.” Akira confirms. “Then hung out with a friend in Shibuya.”

“Huh. Well, good you’re making friends. Just stay out of trouble and keep your grades up and no reason you can’t keep seeing people.” Sojiro’s surprise would hurt just a tiny bit normally, but Akira has to admit he walked into school yesterday looking like he was rolled down a hill.  _ Without even knowing my record is leaked, that is a bad impression to leave _ . 

Akira’s phone starts buzzing in his pocket, but he ignores it for the moment. Probably Rin still giving him grief for not getting her the pictures she wanted today. She could be so demanding when she got it into her head to go after something, but Akira was having a crazy few days and would be more than happy to keep her on the line till the weekend if he so felt like it.

Sojiro definitely notices the continued buzzing. “Look, I’m going to head home for the night. You do your homework, clean up, go to bed. No wandering the neighborhood still.” He folds the paper up and moves to depart. “Same thing tomorrow as today. Go to class, study, be home before closing here.” He leaves, the abandoned cigarette left smoldering in the tray. 

Akira drops his bag into an empty booth, fishing his phone out to see just what was so demanding of his attention while he fishes his homework out and debates on a hot post-castle soak before or after the work is done. 

Half the messages were from Ryuji.  _ Oops, didn’t mean to actually ignore him _ . The other half were Rin blowing up over his ignoring her eminently reasonable requests, which was about what he expected. He ignores her further before firing a few replies back to the punk about their plan the next day. This entire volleyball rally was probably going to just be a chance for Kamoshida to stroke his own ego, but he wasn’t going to object to the opportunity it presents. 

As for his sister, she can wait for the weekend. He did promise to call home though, so with a moment of hesitation he brings up his family’s house number  _ and-Oh no, not letting Rin get the chance to intercept this _ . He brings up his  _ mother's _ number and dials. What he isn’t expecting is the wave of emotion that hits when she picks up and he hears a familiar voice for the first time in days and the almost physical ache he feels in his chest.

“I was wondering when you’d remember that miracle device you have in your pocket, Akira.”

_ Fuck _ . He really was homesick.

“Hey mom, I was just...well, did promise to check in…” 

\-------------------

04/12/20XX

Tuesday

Nighttime

The Velvet Room

Akira wakes in the blue cell what feels like the instant his head hit the pillow in his attic room. He’s getting better at this, or at least more used to the Velvet Room. No need for Caroline to screech him awake, at the very least. He rolls off the hard cot and drags his ball and chain to get to the bars. The twins are at attention, ignoring him, though Caroline gives a tiny  _ hmph  _ of disdain when he approaches.

“Still mad I called you out? Nice to see you too, Caroline. Justine.” He leans on the bars. “Hello, Igor. What’s tonight’s topic you brought me here for?”

Igor chuckles. “I had thought to continue our conversation from last time, especially in light of your success today in both demonstrating the power of the Wild Card and your recruitment of a new contractor.”

“...You mean Ryuji getting his own Persona?” Akira ventures.

“Yes. Your rehabilitation is intended to confront the fated Ruin, but it is a task that cannot be done alone. You will need allies who share your cause to fight alongside you or offer support and insight in other ways. The one you call Ryuji is the first.”

“And,” Justine chimes in from his bottom left. “By fostering these bonds you grow the strength of your own heart. The strength that translates into the power of Persona.”

“Is this that Wild Card thing? Why I was able to take Pixie into my mask?” Akira glances down her way.

“Exactly. Persona are associated with one of the arcana of the tarot. As a Wild Card you can harbor more than one Persona in your heart, though your first one is your personal one. However, by forming contracts and bonds with others who represent these arcana, you strengthen your ability to create and strengthen Persona.”

Akira raises an eyebrow. “I’ve never actually believed much in fortune telling you know. What’s some cards and European mysticism got to do with anything?” He doesn’t admit the blatant supernatural nature of events that have been happening might be lending some credence to what he’s hearing, not just yet.

The nightstick slams against the bars and barely misses his fingers as Caroline lashes out. “The Arcana are the means by which all is revealed, inmate!”

“Okay!” He reflexively jerks his hand back. “No need to be an asshole. The Arcana are important, fine. So how does this help me?”

“Soon, when the time is right, we shall make available to you the most essential aspect of the Velvet Room’s aid to ones such as yourself.” Igor chuckles. “The act of destruction and genesis.”

_ Well that’s not creepy sounding as all getout _ . Akira winces. “So I guess we’ll get to that when we get to it.” He wishes they’d actually explain everything at once rather than the constant string of cryptic hints and pronouncements, but yesterday had proved that trying to force the issue was going to get nowhere. “So what is Ryuji then?”

Justine smiles up at him. “I am glad that you asked. He represents the Chariot. Will, triumph in the face of adversity, self assurance, and confidence all are correspondences of this one.” She produces a small stack of cards from her uniform pocket and slides them to Akira. He shuffles through it to see they are all stylized representations of the Tarot, though a bit…

“Is the High Priestess reading porn on this?” His eyes widen, and then he checks again through all the others. Under the beaming Sun, people dying of heat. The scales of Justice balanced by money. The Hanged Man taking a selfie. All of them at least a bit disrespectful. 

“These are the Arcana of your own heart, just as the Velvet Room is shaped by you. I am not surprised to see your irreverent streak borne out on them.” Igor at least is amused. “Check the Chariot for your companion.” Akira rifles for it, producing a card with a king with a broken arm atop a chariot. Arcana VII. Which between blinks of his eyes shifts, just like the castle today. The king replaced by a black and red and white Ryuji Sakamoto, bandaged arm in a sling on the king replaced with a leg brace on his knee and lone crutch. “He is the first of many, a foundation of strength by which you may oppose the coming Ruin. Seek others, strengthen your bonds. You must not be afraid to reach out to others, and use those bonds to strengthen yourself.”

Caroline puts her hands on her hips and glares up at Akira. “So you’d better rack that noggin of yours! There’s tons of people around you who have skills and experience you don’t, so you’d better work to get them on your side! No slacking off, inmate!”

“Alright, fine.” He matches her glare. “You two feel like starting? What can the Velvet Room’s inhabitants offer me?”

She sputters and tries to formulate a comeback while Igor laughs from his desk. “How bold of you! Yes, you must be prepared to make use of any and all relationships you can. Even our own. You are the Fool, setting out on a journey to obtain the World. And we of the Velvet Room stand ready to assist.” Akira flips through the small deck he was given and when he finds the first card, there he is. Le Mat, the Fool, and there’s Akira traipsing down the road in place of the original art.

“Huh. Well, guess you’d have to be a fool to do what I’ve been doing…” He laughs, he can’t really help it even if there’s really nothing funny happening here. Just the absurdity of this conversation and events settling at once. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

Igor leans forward onto his steepled fingers. “For the sake of your Rehabilitation, I hope not.” 

  
The distant ringing of his alarm cuts through the quiet of the Velvet Room and Akira awakes with a start in the predawn darkness. And this time he remembers everything of the dream.  _ Guess I finally am getting used to all this. Didn’t fall out of bed, didn’t forget everything...And today is the big day with Ryuji _ . Akira rolls to his feet off the bed and shakily stands up. “Get wrecked, Kamoshida.” He declares to the quiet, empty attic. “We’re coming for you.”

As he descends the stairs to Leblanc proper to brush his teeth and try to tame his hair, he doesn't notice a small deck of blue cards that appeared on the window sill next to his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Yusuke Kitagawa, who isn't even in this fic yet. It is January 28th for me even if the publish date Ao3 is showing me is tomorrow so I'm not late on that.
> 
> You know, I was already planning to give Akira a deck of tarot cards just because I wanted to have the great variations of the traditional art representations diegetic in the actual universe. I liked how low key cheeky most of them were, figured it'd be fun to make that linked to Akira's actual general cynicism around this point of the story. Then I saw /u/BurningArtist was doing variations of them as fanart over on reddit that featured the Confidants themselves in the card art and decided that was a thousand times better and wanted to do THAT, so decided to have my cake and eat it too. I seriously encourage people to go check his art out, it is rad.
> 
> I'm also not deliberately playing super coy with some of the headcanons I am running with in this fiction, but don't want to necessarily tag them until or unless they become more actually relevant. I think there's like, three of them I tipped my hand on pretty heavily in these last couple chapters though.
> 
> Either way, a little breather chapter before we get stuck in again was nice. I need to literally just write some pure fluff social scenes with these kids more often, those little bits of actual hangout behavior slipping in here and there are usually there because it was something fun I felt.
> 
> As ever, thank you for reading and any feedback or critiques are welcome if you've got 'em.


	10. The King of Shujin Academy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira and Ryuji investigate the volleyball team.

04/13/20XX

Wednesday

Midday

Shujin Academy

With his mind buzzing with the last day’s events and his body still a healing mass of bruises, the time Akira lingered at the volleyball rally with Ryuji was an absolute worthless waste of his time. He’d rather be listening to Mr. Ushimaru ramble on about whatever latest sin of the younger generation had gotten stuck under his craw than sit here and watch Kamoshida publicly stroke his own ego. At least Ushimaru, grumbling about it or not, seemed to actually care about making sure his classes learned whatever he was on about and was kind of funny in an angry old man way, at least when not lobbing chalk at devastating speeds. Apparently the guy was the staff sponsor and supervisor of the school’s baseball club? Akira wondered if they had a reputation for deadly pitchers with that cannon armed old man teaching.

The volleyball rally was ostensibly a teachers team vs. rotating groups of the boy’s team. It was in practice a chance for Kamoshida, still in astonishing shape even after his professional retirement, to show off in front of a captive audience. The teachers on his team certainly didn’t mind the winning at least, though he doubted any of them were noticing how after every devastating spike and perfect block the man’s eyes drifted to the side of the room where Takamaki sat. She looked bored to Akira, a practiced sort of boredom that really was a way to try and insulate from the world around you. He was good at that kind of boredom too, and wondered just how uncomfortable the blonde girl had to be underneath.

It was when Kamoshida delivered a stunning spike, the kind of flying leap with perfect form that still frames in anime are made for ( _ I really should catch up on Haikyuu!! sometime _ ) that connected with one of the students in the rear of the court that he decides he can’t take sitting around here anymore. It was too similar to the castle, too immediate to linger around and not do or say something that might get them in trouble.

Playing it off as an accident or not, they just watched a metaphorical cannon crater into Yuuki Mishima’s face. And seeing the show they saw yesterday with his cognitive doppelganger it was probably not an innocent mistake. Just a tiny clue, a smidge of doubt if you will. “Hey, Ryuji.” He nudges his friend with his arm. “Want to bail and go hunting for guys on the teams who have already left the hall?”

Ryuji, still tapping his right leg even seated on the gym floor’s periphery as he is, nods vigorously. “Hell yeah, let’s go ruin this guy.”

They slip out the gym and into the courtyard between the gym, practice building, and main classroom building. There’s plenty of other students who bailed as soon as it was feasible to do so are scattered about. “So, that was about as bullshit as I’d been expecting. Think Mishima’s okay?”

“I saw some guys helpin’ him to the nurse’s office, he’s gonna be fine.” Ryuji’s face twists into a scowl. “Did you see how Kamoshida was actin’ so concerned for the guy? I know he did that on purpose!” Ryuji kicks a rock.

Akira doesn’t let his emotions out as openly to anyone observing them but he can’t disagree with the sentiment. “So, how are we going to do this? Everyone we saw in the castle was part of the men’s team. Go look for students who’ve already had chance to help Kamoshida metaphorically jack it in public?”

Ryuji snorts. “ _ Dude _ ! And people give me shit for how I talk?” He laughs. “But anyway, I was thinkin’ we cover more ground by splittin’ up. I’ll take the practice building, you take the main classrooms, we both try and find the ones we saw yesterday. Try and get somethin’ out of ‘em at least. Meet up back here?”

Akira nods. “Just text me to keep me updated. I’ll do the same. It’s a bunch of volleyball jocks, someone is going to have to let  _ something  _ slip.” He heads off feeling pretty hopeful about their chances.

\----------------------------

Akira is beginning to learn that hope is the first step on the road to disappointment. Direct or indirectly asking about physical abuse, even specifically asking about practices like what he’d seen in the castle get nowhere. The team members he identified with matching faces to the cognitive dolls were universally injured in some way, large or small, and every last one of them clammed up. The third year whose doppelganger had been the one to plead with them to leave had just about chased him off the floor he found the guy on. That’s about when he decides to call this expedition done and fishes out his phone.

AK -> RS

AK: I couldn’t get anything out of them. I’m going to try to think up some other way of attacking this. I’ll be in the courtyard whenever you’re good.

RS: same here ugh

RS: i’ll meet you there in a few

The closest to a lead he found was a first year who had a busted nose protected with gauze who’d mentioned he feared getting ‘special coaching’ sessions like Mishima got if he was to be seen talking to Akira.  _ Yeah, thanks for confirming that the guy I just saw get nailed in the face and has had a black eye for days gets abused _ . He sourly thinks on his failure to get anything when a flash of blonde hair catches his eye en route to the courtyard. Takamaki from his class, talking with a girl he didn’t recognize. What was her friend’s name that Ryuji had mentioned? Suzui or something, no personal name. He was planning to circle around them and try to get his thoughts in order, but then his eyes settle on Suzui’s knee where a black brace sits. And back up to her face, she’s got no bruises but there’s a tension in the eyes that he can pick up on from a dozen feet off, and a kind of worn dullness which reminds him of his homeroom teacher, Kawakami.

Sojiro’s words from just days before float back to the top his ruminations.  _ “Word of advice, don’t ever work a job that breaks you as thoroughly as that.” _ Yeah, broken eyes. The same as his teacher.

That makes him pause and reassess the girl. Athletic, definitely. Those are calves of someone who can jump, and she’s actually pretty tall for a girl. Takamaki’s only got a bit of height on her, and the blonde inherited foreigner height averages from whichever parent is behind the blonde hair and blue eyes.  _ I guess the boy’s volleyball team isn’t the only one Kamoshida runs that hard. Shit.  _ Given their absence in the castle, Akira had simply assumed the girl’s team wasn’t subject to the physical abuse. Maybe he can work with this. His steps change course, angling their way now.

And apparently times this right to come in on the middle of a conversation about himself. Great.

“There’s a lot of really bad rumors about the transfer student in your class, Ann…” Suzui leaves the question in her tone.

Takamaki sighs. “Yeah, I know. I don’t even know what to think. I know how many rumors are out there about me and hate it, but he came in late on the first day looking like he’d been in a fight. And I saw him on the way in, he was almost to school in the morning but didn’t make it? It’s kind of strange at least. He sits behind me in class, he’s been quiet and working most of the time.”

The other girl’s expression softens. And then drifts over Ann’s shoulder to land directly on Akira on his apparently not so stealthy approach.  _ Shit _ . “I hope he’s doing alright. The rumors here can be pretty nasty.”

“You always worry about others before yourself, Shiho, like with me…” He can’t see Takamaki’s face from this angle, but the warm tone sounds like she’s smiling. 

“Well, it was just on my mind since he’s standing right behind you.” Suzui looks openly now and gestures with her hand, giving Akira an impish smile as Takamaki almost jumps out of her uniform with surprise.

“ _ WHAT?! _ ” She whirls on him, hands almost reflexively raising to...what a guard position? To shove him? Either way she stops herself partway through the motion. “Were you spying on us?!”

Akira adjusts his glasses and relaxes his body to project as much nonchalance as he can, hands tucked in pockets and a bit slouched, before this turns into even louder screamed accusations or something. “Me? Oh, I was just walking by and heard you bringing up the transfer student so I got curious. No nefarious schemes today, Takamaki.”

Ann’s hackles are up still in a very obvious way but she relaxes slightly. “Well, I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” She crosses her arms.

“Oh I wasn’t mad. I actually am glad you didn’t immediately say I’m a killer or something. And...Suzui?” He ventures and gets a small nod from her. “Thanks for asking. I’m doing alright, though. When everyone is making the same noise, it makes it easier to tune out.” He’s trying to figure out some way to steer this conversation naturally back to the volleyball team but drawing a blank. Maybe going into this half cocked wasn’t a good plan, but Suzui seems nice so getting on her good side can’t hurt. Maybe they could talk later or something. Time to go. “Sorry for intruding, I was just heading outside anyway. Later.”

Ann relaxes slightly, but Shiho isn’t letting this drop just yet. “Oh come on, I saw you coming before I even started talking, doing your pretend to not be listening act with the glasses and that slouch. You’re allowed to talk to us, transfer student.” She smiles. “You don’t need to do the act.” She copies his pose and adjusts fake glasses before laughing. “Seriously, I feel like I’ve seen this somewhere before. Are you copying something out of an anime you saw or something?”

Akira’s flushing red.  _ She knows!  _ “Hey, inspiration can come from anywhere. And I’m just trying to go with the flow, not make any issues. I mean, it isn’t like my reputation isn’t already in the gutter so at this point I’m just trying to coast on by.”

“That sounds like a way to have a trash fire of a year.” The girl’s smile doesn’t fade but her words are blunt as hell. “Besides, you’re friends with Ryuji right? You don’t have to make this some kind of self sacrificing martyr act, say hi whenever. I’m Shiho Suzui, you already know Ann. Don’t be a total stranger, alright? We both know what this school can be like.”

“...Akira Kurusu. And alright, you win. I’m still going to get a drink from the vending machines and meet up with Ryuji, but yeah. We’ll talk sometime.” His neutral expression cracks into a small smile. “Suzui, Takamaki.” He slips past them and through the door, that entire conversation having proved to if nothing else be a break enough to let his emotions calm down from the frustrated morass they were before. Yeah, they didn’t find anything today. But they’d been at this all of two days, Morgana said she might have a plan, and while every day the abuse going on was causing pain it clearly wasn’t going to get anyone killed just yet. 

“Shiho, you already have enough going on with the team you really shouldn’t have to worry about me or Kurusu…” The door closes and he makes a beeline for the drink machines. Then he hears it reopen and footsteps racing behind him. “Kurusu! Akira, hold up.” Ann jogs up beside him.

He puts his neutral face back on and turns to her. No rest for the weary today apparently. “Yeah?”

“Oh don’t be like that, I’m not mad at you or anything.” She is considerably calmer looking than she was after being startled. “I just wanted to ask you what is going on with you, when you came in late. I saw you a few minutes from school, then you pop up half through the day. Plus, there’s so many rumors about you that absolutely can’t be true.”

“Hey! Leave him alone, Takamaki.” The duo’s path rounded the corner to the small corner of the courtyard to where a collection of benches and vending machines are tucked away. Ryuji is already there, arms crossed and clearly overhearing the conversation. “Whaddya want with Akira?”

She matches his annoyed glare. “Right back at you, Sakamoto. You aren’t even in the same class, and I  _ know  _ you were the other one to show late that day.”

“We met on the way in, he’s a cool guy. What’s it matter to you?” 

“What are you two trying to do to Mr. Kamoshida? You’ve been running around since bailing on the rally to bother the volleyball team.”

Ryuji’s eyes flash. “What do you care? You know what he did to my leg, and I know he’s creepin’ on you. Appendicitis and made up shoots, Takamaki?”

Her eyes go wide. “How do  _ you  _ know about that?! And what it matters to me is that people are already talking about what you’ve been doing, and you’re going to cause problems for the people on the team and maybe yourselves! I’m trying to warn you two!” She pauses, realizing how heated she was getting and how fast the words were tumbling out. “That’s all, Ryuji.” She turns to go. “Sorry for intruding, Kurusu.” And then she’s gone.

Ryuji slowly lowers his arms and Akira sees his entire body relax. “You and Takamaki used to be friends, right? What happened?” He adjusts his glasses. 

“Yeah, back in middle school and then...it was a whole thing.” Ryuji sighs. “We’d kinda drifted apart in high school before Kamoshida decided to wreck the track team, that was my fault maybe, but then when she didn’t say a word in my defense in class after that it sorta put a chill on that.”

“She’s still looking out for you a bit.” Akira fishes around in his pockets for money for the machines.  _ Sweet, sweet Arginade you shall be mine _ . “Maybe after we do something about Kamoshida you should try talking to her again. Anyway, did you get anything?” 

“Nothin’.” Ryuji sits on the table before the machines. “You?”

“All I got was a first year mentioning ‘special coaching sessions’ with Mishima. Which is great, thanks for confirming the another person we saw in there is getting beat to hell.” Akira retrieves his drink.

Ryuji however brightens. “No dude, this is somethin’ good. Kamoshida did a lot of shit to our team, but there was nothin’ I’d call by that name. He must be doing something worse to the ones taken aside for that. Mishima caught a ball to the face at the rally, he’s gotta be in the nurse’s office still. Maybe we can ask him about that directly, the guy always seemed kinda like a pushover, he might be the in.” Akira is surprised enough Ryuji can see it on his face. “Hey dude, I’m not as dumb as people say.”

Akira feels abashed. “No! No, not that. I just assumed that it wasn’t anything new since we’d known...you know what? Doesn’t matter. Good catch. Let’s find Mishima.”

The two of them race off through the school. Mishima’s already left the nurse’s office by the time they check that, which leads to a hurried check of the second year classrooms on the second floor, the gym as it empties at the end of the rally and students scatter, and they finally strike gold when checking the school store. Mishima walks straight by the line for the small store and heads to the entrance hall and it’s lockers.

“Hey! Mishima, wait up!” Ryuji races after him while Akira takes a more leisurely pace. “We gotta talk to you for a second!”

Mishima flinches, pausing on his exit from school. He’s a skinny guy, shorter than Akira or Ryuji, but athletic looking. Yet his face is coated with bruises, his posture drawn in, and his eyes tense. Akira is beginning to recognize the expression from other volleyball players, but Mishima seems an unusually bad example. And Suzui, for that matter, now that Akira gets a good look at this boy and sees the similarity. Mishima glances between the two of them. “You too, Kurusu?”

“Yeah, me too.” Akira crosses his arms. 

“Forget about that for a minute. We’re here to ask you about the special cochin’. Kamoshida’s been taking you aside for that, right?” Ryuji leans in uncomfortably close to Mishima’s face.

“What? No, that’s all just because I’m trash at the sport…” He stares hard at the ground.

“So Kamoshida does take you aside then?” Akira leans in. “Is what you do in that actual training? Not just him beating you?”

“Certainly not!” Mishima doesn’t look up. His gaze remains locked hard on the tile below.

“Really? So that spike we saw today was nothin’? Unrelated to all those old bruises on your face?” Ryuji joins in on looming with Akira.

“Y-yes!” Mishima quails. “It is just practice!”

“Hey, what’s all this?” A voice comes from behind the group and the last person Akira wants to see materializes. “Mishima, you can’t be leaving yet. The team still has practice today!” Kamoshida appears from behind.

“I was feeling sick after getting the ball to the face today…” Mishima’s gaze remains locked hard on the ground.

Kamoshida clicks his tongue in annoyance. *Tch*. “Come on, Mishima, you’ll never improve that crappy form if you don’t make practice. With that attitude you might as well just quit.”

“Didn’t you hear him, asshole?! You hammered him in the face and now he’s concussed or some shit, lay off!” Ryuji steps between the two.

Kamoshida glares down at Ryuji. “His call, not yours. What do you say, Mishima?”

The boy rubs his arms. “I’ll come. Don’t worry, sir.” Mishima crumbles visibly.

“Good.” Kamoshida nods, and then turns his focus to Ryuji. “Any more trouble from you and you know you’ll be gone.” He turns to Akira. “And you? I thought Principal Kobayakawa told you to keep in line.”

Akira tucks his hands in the pockets of his gym clothes, which he’d yet to shuck after the rally. He locks eyes with Kamoshida. “What’ve I done? Got to say though, you have an amazing spike. Isn’t that right, Mishima?” Mishima quails at the dig. 

Kamoshida for his part isn’t amused, but Akira didn’t say anything he can work with. “ _Tch_. Just don’t get in the way of practice, and don’t spread rumors. They’re making students uncomfortable. Come on, Mishima.” He turns to go and Mishima falls in behind.

“Your own damn fault there’s rumors in the first place, asshole.” Ryuji mutters under his breath but clearly loud enough for Kamoshida to hear it. The man pauses in leaving.

“Shujin Academy is an elite prep school where students with ambition and skill come to learn. Unworthy trash like you and the criminal don’t belong here.” He turns his head back to the group. “Get with the program and quit, or it won’t get any easier.” He stalks off, leaving Mishima behind.

The younger man sighs, deeply. “That’s what we have to deal with every day. It won’t matter, you know. Trying to prove he abuses the teams. Everyone knows already. Our parents, Kobayakawa. Everyone knows but keeps quiet.”

Ryuji’s eyes widen. “Bullshit! Then why is he even here still?!”

Mishima winces. “Because of how prestigious the volleyball program is. Don’t even pretend to understand what we’re going through, Sakamoto…”

Akira steps between the two, heart flashing with anger. “Yeah, say that to the guy Kamoshida crippled. Don’t you want to help stop that, Mishima?”

Mishima’s eyes once more dive down, refusing to make contact. “There’s nothing to be done. Nothing we can say will make a difference for Kamoshida...I-I have to go. I need to go to practice…” He takes a deep breath, wipes his eyes with a forearm, and races off leaving Akira and Ryuji gawping behind him. _Kamoshida the King is really feeling too real right now..._ Akira winces.

“...So, what now?” Akira slips his hands into his jacket’s pockets and tries to get his emotions back under his skin rather than clear on his face.

“Well nothin’ we can do is going to convince the team. Morgana said she had a plan, yeah? Let’s go find her, hear what she might have to say.”

Akira nods, anger making him obviously tense. “Yeah, maybe she’ll have something. Or at least a new take, because so far as I can tell the volleyball team are all neck deep in Kamoshida’s bullshit.”

And so the duo set out from school, return to the Castle of Lust and...wait. And wait, and wait, and wait. For over an hour they linger in the courtyard, but Morgana never appears. Akira is beginning to become worried about the absent not-a-cat. “Do you think she got captured again?”

Ryuji toys with his skull mask and glances with some obvious worry up at the castle. “She did say she’d meet us again today, right? Maybe she’s just busy inside, runnin’ around or hidin’ and just missed that it’s after school for us?”

“Maybe. Want to give her one more chance tomorrow, then go in looking?” Akira’s guts twist with worry, if Morgana was caught she at huge risk but he hoped she’d be going extremely carefully or just bunkering down in their absence after the last day probably had the castle’s security up in arms. The two of them were not really masters of stealth in her absence, their last infiltration being coasting along in her shadow as best they could.

Ryuji grits his teeth. “Yeah. Hell, I want to go in now, but I know we’ll probably just get our asses found out the minute we go in. One more day.” He nods.

The duo return to their home reality, slinking out of the alley into the somewhat emptier streets. There’s still a steady trickle of students leaving the school across from the alley entrance, but by now most everyone who isn’t heading straight home is involved in afternoon club activities. The second student rush isn’t due for another hour, maybe longer. “You want to kill some time in Shibuya again?” Akira asks his companion.

“Yeah, actually. That’s a great chance to talk about somethin’ I forgot about yesterday. I was thinkin’ the other day about just how effin’ out of shape I am since the track team fell apart and-”

“Senpai!” A bright red head of hair approaches them behind a cluster of third year boys descending the steps from the school. “I was looking for you for the whole rally!” Kasumi Yoshizawa makes a beeline for the two of them.

“Friend of yours, man?” Ryuji raises an eyebrow and doesn’t even try to squash the suggestive grin across his face. “Cute too, maybe a girl-”

“No! God no, we just met! She’s a friend. Just a friend.” Akira’s face blanches. “Yoshizawa-san, how’s life?” He turns to greet the girl as she approaches.

“If you can be just Akira-senpai, you can just call me Kasumi.” She giggles, hand to her mouth. “And fine. I was hoping to say hello to you during the rally, but you and your friend slipped out early I suppose.” She bows formally to Ryuji. “Kasumi Yoshizawa. Pleased to meet you!”

Ryuji gawps for a long second, badly unused to respect from anyone at this school before blushing hard. “Its...ah, you’re fine. Please, stand up. Ryuji Sakamoto, you can just call me Ryuji though if you’re friends with this guy.” He claps Akira on the back.

Her face sets in stubborn stone. “Ryuji-senpai.”

Ryuji winces, and looks over to Akira for support who has nothing more than a shrug to offer. “Sorry man, this is just how she is. You’re Ryuji-senpai now, best get used to it. Can’t have you being a bad social influence on Kasumi, can we?”

“I guess we can’t.” Ryuji relaxes a bit. “Just weird, I guess. You headin’ our way, Kasumi? Akira and me were going to kill some time in Shibuya before headin’ home.”

She shakes her head energetically. “I’m sorry, but not today. I’m running a bit late myself for practice, but I’ll be happy to ride with you to the Shibuya station before hitting my connection.”

Akira vaguely recalls some of the gossip he’d heard when walking her to the school his second day. “Gymnastics right? That’s pretty impressive, honestly. I know how demanding that is supposed to be to be competitive.”

Ryuji glances her up and down. “Really? I didn’t think the school had a team for that.”

“Oh, they don’t.” She laughs again and Akira decides he likes the sound of that. She has energy to everything she does, even when being rigorously polite, and the girl is veritably effervescent when she relaxes a bit. “I’m part of a club outside of school, but we’re highly competitive and Shujin offered me an honors scholarship to attend here and represent it at meets. Given the cost of tuition and the elite reputation this school has for athletics and academics both it was hardly a choice to take it!”

Ryuji rolls his shoulders as their motley trio heads down the road to the station. “Yeah, that’s actually why I came here as a first year. I was never on an honors scholarship _ ,  _ Ms. Fancy, but I ran track in middle school and was thinkin’ maybe this place could get me a scholarship to college and make it a bit easier on my mom.” He tucks his hands into his pockets and looks to the street, downcast. “That didn’t go well, obviously.”

Kasumi perks up. “How so? I’d not even heard this school had a track team, Ryuji-senpai-”

Akira cuts her off with a gentle hand on the shoulder. “It was a lot of drama, Sumi. Maybe best not to get into it today?” He glances over to Ryuji.

“Nah, it’s fine. She’s gonna hear it anyway, might as well be from my mouth rather than the effin’ rumor engine at school.” So he relays his particular story to her as they walk, with the parts about his father abusing his mother sanitized out. Maybe he feels he’s protecting the girl in some misplaced chivalry, or maybe it was just a bit much for him right now. Akira can’t really tell. The red haired girl listens intently and gasps when he talks about his leg, but doesn’t interrupt. Ryuji, maybe for the fact of having relayed the whole story yesterday seems less incensed and more resigned to Akira’s eyes. “So yeah. That’s it. My leg is busted and the other day when me an’ Akira were running late to class I got schooled in just how out of shape I’ve let myself get. Kinda sucks, you know? Which, Akira. Dude, that was something I was going to wanna get with you about while we’re together today. I was thinkin’ about gettin’ back in to physical training, and a buddy tends to make it better. I was thinkin’ of taking some running around the blocks near school might be good, but a real gym will be even better an’ I know there’s a lot of pay as you come places in Shibuya. For commuters, office workers nearby, that kinda shit. You interested?”

Akira idly flexes a hand and thinks about the fighting they’d done in the metaverse, the likely fighting they’d find again, and how damn winded the sprints the other day got him. “Yeah, I’m in.”

Kasumi reaches up to tap on both their shoulders as they near the station. “Akira-senpai, Ryuji-senpai, you have excellent luck.”

Akira adjusts his glasses. “Oh really?”

She beams up at them. “Because I know a great place. Even on days I don’t have practice I try to get a workout in, even if it is a light one. I know a place in Shibuya that isn’t too pricey, has a lot of equipment, and sometimes pretty neat classes in the afternoon.” She scans her commuter pass and just about skips through the gate. “I’m used to going somewhere a little closer to where I live, at least after getting off at the Kichijoji station, but if you want I’d be happy to show you the place and on days I don’t have practice with my coach we could go together. It’s usually a couple of days a week, if you don’t think this is being too forwards for your junior.”

Akira glances over to Ryuji who shrugs. “Hey man, she’s in way better shape than either of us doing what she does. You ever see them on those bars? Nuts.”

Kasumi giggles again. “That’s artistic gymnastics. I do rhythmic, it is more floor based and more like extremely physically demanding dance and includes physical props you need to control while doing so. I’ll show you some videos on the train if you’re interested.”

Akira isn’t so sure about that difference, but he is wanting to take the chance to get to know his new maybe friend ( _ Definitely friend _ , he realizes.  _ I’ll be hurt if she buys into the rumors. Stupid emotions. _ ) “Sure. We’ll try and cram in close enough together to watch.”

So together the trio squeeze like sardines into the train car and on the cracked and slightly color distorted screen of Kasumi’s phone they watch amazingly lean women in sparkling leotards with incredibly muscular legs perform impossibly complex feats of agility and coordination. _What happened to their spines? How do legs go like that?!_ Akira is suitably impressed. 

Ryuji, the poet of the modern days, has it simpler. “How the eff can you do all that, Sumi-chan?!”

Even in the tightly packed car that has their group squeezed against the window, Kasumi can manage to give that bright laugh and smile.

As the trio splits at the station, Kasumi off to hop the line to Kichijoji and Akira and Ryuji off to ignore homework and waste a few of the coins that Akira lifted off of the corpse-ash of Shadows on Gun About or maybe a few rounds of Street Fighter, Kasumi slips a paper into his hand. “My contact info. Message me when you can, senpai. I’d put you in now but apparently all the excitement of streaming a video killed mine.” She flashes him her phone’s cracked screen. “Shut down just as we stopped. I actually have a favor I’d like to ask you sometime, but it isn’t a huge rush or anything! If I don’t see you around school, gym this weekend? I’ll message you the address when I get some life back in the old girl.” She slips her phone into her school bag, giving it a forlorn pat.

“Not quite ready to replace it yet?” Akira inputs her info while keeping a loose eye on wherever Ryuji is wandering off to.

“Call it being sentimental.” Kasumi gives him a small smile that has a different energy than her usual self. Akira elects not to dig deeper here, as much as he wants to. 

Instead, he gives a small nod. “Of course. Care if I pass the paper to Ryuji?”

“I’d be insulted if you didn’t. He’s your friend, and I think now my friend. I look very much forwards to putting you both through your paces!” The smile now has danger to it. Akira gathers that she takes her fitness routines seriously, she seems to be invested in gymnastics on a highly competitive level, and he feels like he has thrown himself into a river with concrete blocks chained around his neck but is waiting to hit the water. She bows sharply, painfully polite still. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you this weekend if not around school. Gym on Saturday? I’ll save that question for you for later, Akira-senpai. Have a good night!” And with that she’s gone at full speed.

Akira watches her go for a long second, wondering what the hell he just got himself into before turning to follow Ryuji.

In his pocket his phone buzzes continuously.

Rin -> Akira

Rin: I know you’re reading this Akira

Rin: where’s my pictures, boy

Rin: I bet you’re in Shibuya or wherever right now, it would be two seconds of effort

Rin: you called mom last night, but will not respond to your precious baby sister with one measly image

Rin: I see how it is

Rin: akiraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Akira ignores her, pocketing his phone with a faint smile. Saturday, he promises himself. He’ll drive her up the wall until early release Saturday, then indulge her. 

\-----------------

04/13/20XX

Wednesday

After School

Shibuya

They kill an hour in the arcade, and the rush of post work and school bodies dies down. The sun is setting but still bright when the duo emerge from the arcade. Akira stands in the sunlight for a minute and enjoys the breeze, indulging in a long moment of just being physically lost in the sensation. It’s...nice, in a way that tugs at his mind in a regretful way. It puts his mind to past springs, before this year ruined everything. “You want to know something stupid?” He takes his glasses off and polishes them on his shirt.

Ryuji looks up from his phone where he’s texting away to someone, maybe his mother to let her know he’s en route back. “Yeah, what?”

“Spring used to be my favorite season. I like the weather being this perfect level of warmth after winter but not quite summer hot, the plants coming back to life, even have a giant soft spot for flowers. My mom’s always gardened around the house, so maybe I get it from her. But I got arrested at the end of winter and have spent the entire time where the weather really turns around either in jail or being raced around to get here to Tokyo, or now getting the shit beat out of me by monsters born out of the human mind and exploring a castle while playing investigative reporter with the volleyball team.” He tucks his hands in his pockets. “This year sucks. There’s no relaxing or real rest and my body is still killing me, but despite all of it? I feel amazing. We've done crazy shit these last few days, and we're working to take down a really awful person."

Ryuji laughs, unbridled and without any weight to it. “That’s a bit intense, man. But I can’t say it doesn’t sound right. Waking to the part of me that Captain Kidd represents is like...being in tune with emotions and some thoughts about myself for the first time in a long time. And I cannot effin’ wait to see him burn too.”

Akira relaxes. “I’m glad that didn’t sound too crazy at least. Oh, I met Shiho Suzui today you know. Ann’s friend. And yours?”

Ryuji tenses slightly. “Yeah. She was always more Ann’s though, so when we kind of stopped talkin’ she followed suit. Well, more like when she tried talkin’ to me when I went by the two of them I shut her down because I was feelin’ awkward about it.”

“That sounds like you stopped talking to her more than anything else. But yeah, I met her and kind of like her. She has that same get under people’s skin with a smile instinct I’ve got about dealing with people. Thanks, Rin Kurusu, you are an inspiration.” Akira glances down, smile from ribbing his sister from even a distance of hundreds of miles fading. “I think Kamoshida’s abusing the girl’s team as much as the boy’s. When I was talking with Ann and she didn’t think I was looking her eyes seemed kind of…” Akira struggles with the words here. “Flat. Dead. Broken or something, it wasn't good. She musters when I was talking to her, or when Ann was looking, but she’s having a hard time of it. Also, she’s wearing a leg brace. So you know, that’s a thing.”

Ryuji’s eyes widen. “That son of a bitch! I figured since we didn’t see any girls in the castle he wasn’t…” He snarls and clenches a fist. “Tomorrow, we find Morgana and see what the hell she has to say. Doin’ somethin’ is better than nothin’ and at this point every day we sit he’s just goin’ to beat on the teams and creep on Takamaki an’ any other girl he sets his sights on!”

Akira nods. “Tomorrow.” The duo depart Shibuya as the light shifts to a golden sunset. Ryuji riding north, Akira to the west. Sojiro doesn’t have any lecture for him as Akira returns to the empty cafe in the evening, but gives an approving grunt as he sets up at one of the far booths to work on his homework. He’ll get through to the gruff bastard, yet.

And blessedly, that night Akira does not dream of the Velvet Room. Instead fragmentary memories of his old home drift through his mind, surreal tableaus from the Castle of Lust, and his constant companion in rest a glowing blue butterfly. It speaks in whispers, words just at the edge of his hearing, but in the regretful memories of his old life and the frightening ones of the new, he finds its company a balm. Her company, he decides at some point in the dream, that almost audible whisper is definitely a young woman. He hopes he hears her clearly one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: "I don't really think I'll want to write their whole failed investigation, so we can elide that and move on to the next day a lot faster"  
> Also me: "Oh boy, character interactions!"
> 
> Some dialogue lifted straight from the game, some of it new, and a new scene moving some relationships up and around from the game's pacing. Still, had a fun time writing and I hope this comes through in the text! Comments, critiques, and any feedback is of course welcome. Thanks for reading, as ever.


	11. Hard Luck Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author tries to juggle multiple points of view in one conversation without getting the reader lost, and Akira makes some friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for somewhat more direct discussion of abuse and sexual harassment behavior than previously. Nothing too explicit or raw, but a bit more direct than usual.

04/14/20XX

Thursday

Afternoon

Shujin Academy

Akira’s day passes in a frustrated haze. If he wasn’t on incredibly thin ice already he’d have been tempted to cut class with Ryuji and go to the castle by lunchtime. Ryuji had definitely been suggesting that when texting him earlier, the distraction of checking his phone earning him a surprise question from the flamboyantly dressed Mr. Hiruta in their science period that morning. Nobody cares about your optical illusions, Captain Harlock! 

He’d done his best to make the day work for him if he wasn’t going anywhere. He sat in the library reading his collection of Arsène Lupin short stories over lunch, just to get out of the classroom for a bit and grate on the nerves of anyone in the library who resented his presence there. He made sure to give the uptight brunette from the other day a broad smile as he slipped in and secured a study carrel of course, and got only narrowed eyes in response.  _ Good enough _ . There was constant muttering about him there, just like everywhere else, but music in the ears helped insulate against that.

_ Is that the delinquent? _

_ I heard he and Sakamoto were saying all kinds of things about Mr. Kamoshida yesterday! _

_ Didn’t I see him talking to that first year, the honors gymnast? Someone should warn her about him! _

Same shit, all day every day. He flips through his book, letting himself get lost temporarily in stories of daring heists and confidence schemes, insulated from the world by his music as ever. He wasn’t entirely sure why but the musical itch he’d been feeling lately was being plugged pretty effectively by pop idols. Usually being in a bad mood was a time for him to make deep cuts on punk or metal, but some of Risette’s post big return albums were scratching an itch for him. Maybe it was because the songs from them reminded him of being 13 and carefree, or maybe it was because he’d seen posters for the upcoming album  _ Sapphire  _ blanketing part of his commute through Shibuya and apparently he was a sucker for advertising. But that was all chaff, a distraction. This afternoon he had a job: find Morgana through any means necessary. He only sort of knew the (cat)girl, but he didn’t want to imagine her trapped again in the castle dungeons or dead. Besides, she said she had some sort of plan for dealing with Kamoshida, maybe it’d bear better fruit than his and Ryuji’s ongoing failures.

So with that thought backing him, he sucks up the rest of his day even with the tension distracting him from class. In the grand scheme of things, it was only a few hours. A few hours, then meet up with Ryuji and back to the castle where he prayed Morgana would be waiting. If not, then back to infiltration. That concern ate up his concentration the most at the end of the day. He took a few minutes to get going from his classroom at the end of the day after sending a flurry of texts to Ryuji to coordinate a meetup and generally marking time. They don’t want to slip into the alley and disappear from sight in the midst of the huge rush of students leaving school.

By the time he leaves to rendezvous with the punk in the courtyard, his brain is miles away from his body. On his route to the courtyard he almost misses Shiho Suzui looking like a wan scarecrow tucked in the corner of the breezeway, but just as he is almost beyond her his brain catches up to his body. Shiho was sporting a new bruise on her eye and forehead, a big purple splotch of mottled skin. Shiho was part of the volleyball team and lacked this bruise yesterday afternoon. One plus one equals abuse. Akira slows down. “Hey, Suzui! You alright? You look....” He trails off. What words are even right here?

“Oh, me? I’m fine.” She touches the bruise on her face. “Just caught a ball bad during practice. And please, it’s Shiho. You don’t need to be formal with me at least.” 

He looks from the facial wound down to her leg then back up again. Her eyes were flat, barely reacting even as her mouth apes a smile. He’d swear those are the eyes of a corpse, not a breathing girl standing in front of him.  _ Fuck _ . “Yeah, sure. You look like crap, Shiho. You seriously say you’re doing alright?”

Shiho feels ice down her spine as the transfer student leans in closer, looking straight at the bruise on her face even while she feels a surprising warmth in her cheeks at his words. “I look like crap? Wow, you really have a way with women don’t you? I’m fine.” She gingerly touches her bruise. “Just a practice injury.” She can see him almost literally bite his tongue to keep from saying something further. That gets him a curious glance from her, at least. “You aren’t going to press on this? We all know what you’d been up to yesterday with the boy’s team.”

He raises a hand, opens his mouth to reply and...pauses. He takes a moment to think before saying anything again. “No. I don’t think I will. Not today.” He relaxes physically, and Shiho feels a wave of relief. She appreciates he cares, him and Ryuji both seem like the only ones besides Ann who do, but she doesn't want to have to field his questions. Not today, not ever if at all possible. She knows her starter position on the team is her best bet for a good college, and can take any amount of bruises and aches for that. 

Akira's brain is burning. He knows she knows that he knows Kamoshida is abusing the team, and he knows she won’t ever break but can't figure out  _ why _ . The whole volleyball team is so deep into whatever Kamoshida is selling that they clamp shut like an armored bulkhead the minute he pokes at them. He decides to go for an apology in this case. He doesn't get why the damned team matters so much to the players as to take the abuse, but they aren't his enemy. "Suzui, I'm sorry if my asking these things is putting you in a difficult spot. I'll drop it, I don't want to get you in any hot water or anything."

Shiho relaxes ever so slightly, her broken gaze regaining the tiniest glimmer of life.  _ What the hell does he do to you all _ … “Thank you.” She exhales, privately grateful for the olive branch. The quiet transfer student having the spine to ask these questions was impressive to her honestly, everyone was either terrified or in awe of the coach or simply too busy to notice anything amiss. Someone caring was... _ nice _ and definitely spoke more to her about the guy than any amount of rumors of ivory smuggling and murder. Enough to give a little hope at least. “But enough about us. Akira, you’re doing alright too, right? Nothing worse than rumors?” 

He nods, expression neutral. “Nothing worse. There’s some honor student in the library I’m working on getting on the bad side of, but that’s just a mild bit of personal animus. First day I was in there she asked if I could leave because my presence was distracting the good students. So I've been taking my lunches in there and reading to get under her skin since she seems like she is there studying every break period too. Nothing nefarious, Suzui.”

She snorts, eyes lighting up. “Shiho, come on. You'll get it eventually. Also is it a girl about so high, deep red eyes, short hair?” She holds a hand up to give a height reference. Akira nods and she stifles a snort.  _ Of course he'd stumble into starting a feud with Niijima,  _ she privately marvels to herself. The guy has some luck, honestly.

“Shiho. Sorry, you are way more forcefully friendly than Takamaki.” Akira gives her an apologetic smile, brain still humming along to try figure out what was so amusing with the library girl.

“Ann has had...a rough time. She’s obviously foreign, she was raised overseas till we were both in middle school, and is a tall blonde girl. Not to mention her looks...A recipe for being an outsider, you know?” Shiho’s eyes lose what little sparkle they regained with the banter and Akira somehow feels like he’s failing some sort of test that only he is taking. He tucks his hands in his pockets and tries to come up with anything to shift the conversation to a happier topic. Mental work wasted since she immediately snorts with laughter. "I got you pegged, you know."

He doesn't reply verbally but raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, this act here?" She mirrors him, lack of pockets on her uniform skirt or not. Both hands tucked to her side, slouching, eyes not making contact. "I've seen you do this in the halls these last couple days, and yesterday you did it when trying to sneak up on Ann and me. And doubled down on it when I called you out. It felt so  _ familiar _ you know?" 

He'd genuinely hoped she would have forgotten that moment from yesterday. But as with everything he felt the faint stirrings of hope about lately, the universe immediately shot him down. "Yeah, so you said. I still don't-"

She silences him with a finger to his lips which incites an immediate flush of heat in his belly. "Shhh, I'm trying to brag about my observational skills. Let me have this, Akira Kurusu." She withdraws and straightens the hem of her shirt. Perhaps that was a bit too forwards, making contact like that, but the guy has such a carefully coached poker face that making him squirm was too fun to pass up. "Now obviously in crafting your facade you failed to take into account that someone else might also be aware of anime that predates their birth but my extended, caffeine powered sleepover anime binges with Ann have prepared me in a way few others are!"

"Really going melodramatic here, huh?"Akira leans against against the wall, smiling all the same. She's glad he is playing along rather than shutting down. She hasn't had a good chance to back and forth like this with anyone but Ann in far longer than she wants to admit with everything that's been happening at school and she knew Ann was being deliberately held at arm's length with how much practice was weighing on her lately. Her own doing too, which she hated more than the injuries and the long nights. If she had to admit, she missed the easy companionship without the tension of Kamoshida lingering like a shadow. Maybe wasn't fair to be using the new guy like a crutch for her own spiraling social life but fuck it all, he was at least bantering back and making her smile.

"You are the most interesting thing in the last week. Sue me." She gives him a bright smile that reaches to her eyes for the first time today. Maybe in a few days, but best not to dwell on that. "In any case, I am not bound to your fanciful restrictions on jock or otaku behavior!"  _ What restrictions did I ever suggest? _ Akira wants to ask, but she’d told him off for interrupting her flow once already. She leans in on him and whispers right into his ear. " _ Spike. _ " Akira blushes and she laughs.  _ Caught you dead to rights, Kurusu _ . She gives her most self satisfied Cheshire cat smirk up at him.

"Alright, you got me. I was trying to emulate that whole water off a duck's back nonchalance bullshit when moving here." He takes his glasses off and brandishes them. "These too, part of a facade to just look less threatening. You happy, Suzui?" He couldn't believe the audacity of the girl but couldn't begrudge it either. Her eyes were lit up with amusement and body language open, a far cry from a few minutes ago and he hoped this was more who she really was than the drawn in, dead eyed scarecrow. 

"Extremely. I was going out on a limb, but you do the  _ same _ slouch and shuffle as the character and it felt just too appropriate." She plucks the glasses from his hand and slips them on her head. "Were you really so afraid about making a scary first impression though? Your record should have never been leaked. Also these definitely look better on me than you." She had no idea who was behind the rumors about him but the first leak, on the school's student forums was very real looking. A scan of the redacted conviction, but the words "Guilty" and "Assault" had been electronically highlighted. But this guy didn't seem the hardened criminal type to her, proving under her testing more like an enormous dork who squirms at the slightest teasing. It was unfair that someone had tanked his chances here, but she was probing more to see his reaction about it than anything else.

"I kind of expected some gossip. Nothing like a record leak and this though." He sighs and gestures ambiently around. "And you aren't even looking in a mirror."  _ Not that she's wrong  _ he concedes to himself privately. Life was returning to her eyes a bit here and it was heartening to see. And even with the big mottled bruise, she was rocking the look.

"I don't have to look in a mirror to know it. Just looking at your reaction." She locks eyes with him, daring him to deny it. She spends enough time around Ann to learn the looks second hand. A lingering stare, a slight widening of the eyes. She isn't used to being the ones getting them, but he certainly wasn't staring at her bruise this long into the conversation.

Truth it is then. Akira spends too much of his time lying lately anyway. "That obvious?" He sighs and glances away.

There's a lot of things screaming at her from the back of her mind to not do what she is contemplating.  _ You have practice to focus on and your grades. He's an actual criminal still. He'll bring the injuries up in the future, you know this is just a grace period. Why would he even say yes to a too tall girl with baggage? _ But at the same time, he was one of the first people beyond Ann to notice and care about the injuries. She was actually enjoying this conversation once it went off the sensitive topics. He was in a differently shitty situation to her own, but there was some...camaraderie, or at least familiarity there. And despite chronic bedhead, kind of cute when forced to drop the closed off act. She comes to a decision.

"You're a lot easier to read when you realize your face may be neutral but your body language isn't. You're a really expressive guy, Akira." She has her phone in hand now. "Here, share me your contact info. You free Saturday afternoon?"

He reflexively brings his out. "Uh...I think Ryuji and another friend and I are going to hit up a gym in Shibuya after we get out. Saturday is half day release, right?"

"Right. And I have volleyball practice for a couple hours afterwards. You're new to town, do you want to go out with me and let me show you some sights after we both pay our sweat tithe at the altar of fitness? I've lived in the city my whole life, I can show you around some…" She loses some of her steam and self assurance there, but he can see she isn't shutting down to that flat look from before. More nervous than anything to Akira's eyes.

"You sure want to hang out with the delinquent?" Akira offers her an out if  _ that _ was what was eating at her.

"No, I don't want to hang out."  _ Ouch, right in the open woun- _ "I am trying to ask you on a date, Kurusu. Keep up." She blushes but doesn't drop her gaze even as she feels heat creep up her cheeks and stomach decide to twist itself into knots.  _ Way to go too fast, idiot, he's going to bolt or think you're weird. _

"Oh." Akira sincerely didn't expect that. "Are you  _ sure _ ? We've only spoken twice now…"

"And I think that's enough to decide you're not the guy rumors say you are. You're reserved, not a bad person. We have at least one thing in common if I was able to zero in on your anime facade, you're fun to banter with and tease, and honestly kind of cute. So what’s so bad about a date? If it doesn't go anywhere I still think I'd like to be friends with you. You can use a few, new guy. I wasn't kidding about the tour guide thing, I know all sorts of cool off the beaten track stuff. It could be fun..." She fiddles with his glasses with her hands, glancing away and their shine hiding her eyes.

_ Don't stick out. Quiet year. You're leaving here back to the sticks in a year anyway. Your reputation is trash, it won't be easy for her _ . All these eminently reasonable reasons to say no scream at him from within. But then the part of him that is done with the self deceptions and lies cuts through. He wants to say yes. Maybe just make a friend, maybe something more. He does only have a year here in Tokyo so why waste time being miserable? "Sounds like a deal to me." He offers her his hand.

"Oh, so formal. Am I to make a deal with the devil of Shujin then?" She laughs and takes it, eyes bright again and her hand warm in his own. He wants to hold the moment a bit longer but lets it go without comment. "It's a date. Saturday afternoon, Shibuya station. I’ll text you when I’m out of practice so you can wait for me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to practice." Her expression loses the warmth it had been building up, eyes going distant again. She feels like a bucket of ice water was just dumped onto the warmth in her chest and Akira can almost see her dimming. Shiho doesn't make eye contact after that, pocketing her phone and making her exit.

She's several paces away before Akira realizes she still has his glasses, reeling from the meteoric mood plunge he just was party to. "Hey! You've still got my glasses, Suzui."

Ah. So she did. Well, too bad Akira, they have a new home. She turns back to give him a sly smile, glare hiding her eyes behind his lenses. "Shiho, you can do it Akira.. And you can have them back Saturday. You've got another pair, right?"

With one cracked lens. "Yes, but-"

"Then consider it insurance you don't chicken out." She adjusts the spectacles and gives him a sharp smile that only blunts her pre-practice mood some. "See you, space cowboy." Akira can't help it, he laughs. Blushes a bit too, sure, but he can't entirely resist the infectious enthusiasm. 

She gives him a far too self satisfied smirk, mimes firing a gun with one hand and mouths a silent  _ Bang!  _ before slipping away into the school, his glasses still firmly perched on her nose. The laughter with her joke was not a fire that can burn the cool mood away, but she isn't going to object to warming coals.

Akira is still grinning like an idiot after he pushes on forwards and sees Ryuji waiting for him in the courtyard. "Well at least  _ someone's  _ in a good mood. What happened to your glasses?" Ryuji looks about ready to run in multiple directions at once, leg bouncing in agitation as he leans against the table near the vending machines. "I'm about ready to go. Spent today just stewin' and worrying. You ready to go rescue the cat?"

"Someone took the glasses and yeah. Absolutely." Akira’s good mood is run down by that sobering return to reality. Morgana was still AWOL and possibly in danger, Shiho didn’t get those bruises or that awful thousand yard stare from nothing, Mishima looked even more withdrawn and beaten in class ( _ And that one might be on me for calling Kamoshida out when trying to talk to Mishima… _ ) and none of that is going to get any better if they don’t get their acts in order. “What do you think, go to the castle and wait for a bit or should we just go straight in?”

“The second time we were there, cat found us in no effin’ time. Yesterday, nothin’. If she ain’t there in ten minutes, I say we go in.” Ryuji hops off the table he’d been leaning on. “We’re goin’ on a wild cat hunt.”

Akira wonders who the hell has been teaching Ryuji idioms wrong, this is too consistent to be his being selectively stupid, right? “Snipe hunt, dude. And a snipe hunt implies you’re searching for something that doesn’t-”

“THERE YOU ARE!” An extremely familiar voice rasps out. A small black and white cat with familiar blue eyes and a yellow scarf emerges from a bush nearby and hops onto the table. “Where the hell were you yesterday?! I hid out in your desk waiting for you to come back from that thing in the gym so we could talk and you just  _ left school _ ?!” The definitely-a-cat that is also definitely-a-Morgana glares up at them, first at Ryuji then at Akira. “Well?! Explain yourselves!”

_ A cat is yelling at me in an actual language. Morgana is an actual cat now. I am not going insane. This is just happening.  _ Akira has to process a lot of emotions and thoughts extremely quickly and remains silent. Ryuji fills the void of silence on that. “M-Morgana? Is that you? You’re a cat! An actual cat! Is this for real?! Akira, she’s a cat! You heard her, right?”

“Meow?” He replies vaguely.

“You’re no help at all!” Ryuji spins on the feline. “Morgana! How’re you here?! You can get out of the castle without a phone?! Why are you an actual cat?!”

“What’s a phone? And I told you I’m not a cat! This is just...well it happened to me when I came here from the castle. It is probably part of the same distortion that gave me the form you saw in there.” She sits on her haunches and curls her tail around her body somewhat forlornly. “Anyway, you two just left school and ruined my big plan to surprise Akira from his desk! And then today I had to spend all day hiding! Again!”

“We went to look for you in the castle! Where we’d met every effin’ time before! Why would you even think we’d have known to wait for you?!” Ryuji’s arguing loud enough that Akira is positive is only a matter of time before someone investigates.

“I thought I  _ told  _ you all-”

“That you’d meet us out here?! No! No you didn’t!”

And then new voices, around the corner. Adults, two teachers. “I’d swear I just heard a cat meowing over here. Come on, help me look for it.”

“A cat? Are you serious? I just hear that Sakamoto punk arguing on the phone. You’re imagining things.”  _ Please, please, please let the lazy one win. _ Akira tenses. The last thing they need is for Morgana to wind up in some animal shelter.

“Meow?” Ryuji quiets down. “Does that mean only me an’ Akira can hear-”

Two sets of shoes, clicking on concrete as they come to the corner. Akira acts on instinct, scooping Morgana up and vanishing her into his bag. 

“Hey! What’s the big meaning of this-” Akira firmly pushes her head in and zips it mostly shut.

He leans in to whisper. “Shut up. Anyone besides us sees you’re here and you’re going to an animal shelter and we’re going to be handed our asses for having an animal on campus.” He finishes zipping it, straightening as two men who he doesn’t recognize come around the corner.

“See, it’s just Sakamoto and the transfer student.” The older man rubs his neck. “You two kids, keep it down.” He turns to go while the younger one merely looks around the corner they’re in with some confusion. 

“You know, I could have  _ sworn  _ I’d heard a cat.” He sighs and follows the other man. “Anyway, Yamauchi, we still going to take some of the others drinking this Saturday…”

Akira relaxes as the two of them go. “Ryuji, come on. Let’s do this somewhere emptier.”

“Roof?” The blonde picks up his own bag.

“Roof.” Akira gently hefts his Morgana laden back. “Morgana, hold still for a couple minutes. We’re going somewhere isolated.” He gets a muffled affirmation back and they depart.

\-------------------------

The very first thing Morgana did when being let out of the bag on the roof was to shoot Akira a furious glare and immediately set to grooming herself to fix her disheveled fur. Fair enough. Ryuji was clearly still processing her being an actual cat, so Akira busied himself with the planters on the roof from before. The little green shoots were looking a little dry, the usually plentiful spring rains having been clear for a couple of days now. There’s a small plastic chest up here that is unlocked and full of gardening supplies. He finds a pail and a water tap not far from the door and sets to restoring some life to the planters. It looks like vegetables? Should be shooting up and ready to put in larger planters or pots soon then. He really should see who these things belong to, he’d spent enough time gardening with his mother over the years to enjoy it. Maybe they’d let him help out?

Morgana finally has her fur back to whatever passes for acceptable and then hops onto one of the desks to yell at Akira more effectively. “What was that?! I’m small, don’t be so rough!”

“Ah, relax. If he hadn’t done that you’d have been caught dead by those teachers.” Ryuji kicks at a rock. “Now, weren’t you supposed to have somethin’ for us about Kamoshida at that meetin’ we missed yesterday? Some way to deal with him? Because we’ve been tryin' here and…” Ryuji’s face falls and he rubs at the back of his neck. “We got nothin’.”

“I feel like there’s got to be something we can do in the castle, but can’t figure out what.” Akira waters the plants as he talks. “The King is his shadow right? His ignored true self, you said? If we can’t get at Kamoshida through the school or students, do you know a way we can get at him through his shadow maybe?”

“Almost right, Akira.” Morgana takes a moment to lick a paw and bask in their inquiring stares.  _ Cat really likes to be a know it all, doesn’t she... _ “You don’t go for the king, not directly. That’ll just kill him.”

“For real?! I mean he’s a piece of shit, but I don’t want him dead…” Ryuji pales.

“Which is why you attack the  _ castle _ .” Akira can see her smug grin even on a feline face as she delivers that. “The castle is the manifestation of his distorted desires and wants. You destroy it and things echo back to the real Kamoshida from the metaverse. Poof.” She emphasizes the point with two paws and falls over for her effort.

“His desires that make him act like...well, what he is would just...go?” Akira crosses his arms as the cackling cat returns to all fours. 

“Exactly. You’re getting it, at least!” She beams up at him. Guess he’s all forgiven for the bag, then.

“So, what? He’d just become good?” Ryuji’s skepticism is evident in his tone.

“I’m sure of it. Kamoshida and that castle are linked on a deep level. It is a part of him, and removing it would in turn remove the things it represents in his deepest psyche.” Morgana locks her stare with Ryuji.

“Even if it’s for real, doesn’t really feel like gettin’ back at him.” Ryuji’s expression settles into a contemplative scowl. Really like nothing Akira could say he’s seen busted out before.  _ Still, that line of thought... _

“Does it matter?” Akira reaches up reflexively to adjust his glasses when making a point before remembering Shiho had stolen them right out of his hands earlier. “If he stops abusing the volleyball team and leaves Takamaki alone, it’ll be a huge step up.”

“And that wouldn’t likely be the end of it.” Morgana paces across the small cluster of desks up here. “Presumably once Kamoshida was a normal person, like anyone else. This would be just a wakeup, a jolt in the morality when all the justifications and self serving lies from his distortion were taken away. It doesn’t undo his crimes, and what do you think a good, upright kind of person would do with that kind of weight on their conscience?”

Ryuji’s eyes brighten as he begins to understand the point the cat was driving at. “He’d confess his bullshit with his own mouth...right to the cops I bet, right?”

“And all of the work to get to that point done in his own head! Not a trace to follow even if someone suspected foul play!” She bounds to her feet.

“Amazin’! You’re the coolest cat I’ve ever met!” Ryuji extends a fist and the feline bumps it with a paw.

“You know it, blondie. Except for the cat part!” She’s beaming all the same.

Akira keeps a grin from his face for the moment. She’d not even touched one important thing here. “That castle is huge, Morgana. Last I checked none of us had access to tons of explosives and the right engineering knowledge to be able to blow the thing up. And I think we’d be old men before taking a sledgehammer to the structure will do much to it. How do you propose we destroy it?”

“That...is a trade secret. If you agree to my plan I’ll tell you more.” She primly sits on the edge of a desk, tail swishing.

“I don’t see like we got much of a choice, man. Every lead we’ve tried has come up a dead end or worse. This sounds amazin’, a way to get Kamoshida to change his shitty ways and get him off the backs of students. I think I’m in.” Ryuji nods at Morgana.

Akira nods. “Same. Tell us what we need to do.”

Morgana purrs with delight. “Alright then. By destroying his palace, we destroy his distorted desires. But we have to be careful, because desires are also what keep us alive. Hunger for food, a desire to live in shelter motivating people to work at the most basic level, for love and companionship…”

“Yeah, love which has gone effin’ out of hand with Kamoshida. Castle of Lust, really?” Ryuji snorts.

“Hey, I’m not done!” Morgana bats his hand with a clawed paw. 

“Ow! Sorry!”

"If you're sorry you'll let me finish my lesson!" She huffs. "Anyway. Desires are a part of life. What we're going to do is remove only his warped and twisted wants, but you should know before we go in that if we do it wrong it could be just as bad as killing his shadow."

Ryuji's eyes widen. "You mean he could die? That's what you said would happen if we off his shadow."

"Maybe not as surely, but it wouldn't be good." Morgana looks up to the two of them. "If you kill his shadow he'll die in the near future, almost certainly, or will simply become an apathetic husk. The shadow is a key part of your self. If we were to take away all his desires, not just the distorted ones, he might not die immediately but his existence would hardly be called living. Not unlike the death of their shadow, really. The will to eat, get out of bed, and otherwise take care of oneself. Gone. Without proper care they would die for sure, if you could even call that existence living."

Ryuji stares right back at her. "How likely is  _ that _ instead of just changin' their hearts like we want? I ain't gonna kill Kamoshida even if I hate his lyin' guts. Nuh uh, not me." Akira can't say he disagrees either. He wants to help the volleyball team and everyone else the would be king has under thumb but murder or causing what sounds like brain damage? Nope. That description of apathetic quasi-life is ringing a bell with him too but he can't for the life of him recall from where though...

"Don't you have the guts to face the risk to make things better here?" She stares between the two of them.

"I'm not a killer, Morgana. He isn't either." Akira shakes his head. "Tell us how risky you think this actually is. We can't make a call on a 'maybe' between life and death for someone." Memories of the days alone in a cold cell, his arrest and the snarl of the bastard who he’d gotten in the way of, mixing in with the confusing first nights at the Velvet Room, are drifting through his recall. Akira doesn’t want to go back to jail, and he’s willing to do a lot to stop Kamoshida but he isn’t sure that murder is on that list yet.

“You too?” Morgana’s face falls. “This is the only way, isn’t it? You two haven’t been having any luck here in this world…and it isn’t like you can get caught this way!”

“That ain’t the point, cat!” Ryuji snaps at her. “There’s right and there’s wrong, and killin’ a dude just because we can do it and not get caught is no better than what he’s doin’!” Akira nods in agreement with that one. Bruises will heal, a corpse is forever. 

“And I’m not a cat!” She at long last carries through on her long implied threats and scratches Ryuji on the hand. “And don’t forget it!” She hops away as he takes a reflexive swipe at her. “Look, I’ll give you guys a day or two to think it over. I’ll be around school, I’ll find you.”

Akira digs a tissue out of his bag to hand to Ryuji to put on the bleeding scratch. “You sure? Have you had anything to eat in the last couple days?”

Her stomach audibly grumbles, a tiny sound. “...No, I actually never needed to eat before. Is that why I’m tired and my stomach hurts?”

Akira sighs as Ryuji gives him a glare, clearly sensing the next offer. “Get in my bag. You can come with me. I have a whole attic you can hide in overnight, and I’ll buy you some food at the supermarket near me.”

Morgana regards his bag with some concern but grudgingly crawls in. “Fine. Just don’t jostle me too hard when we travel, yeah? I am a delicate flower after all.”

“I thought you said you were a badass master thief. Which one is it?” Ryuji still sulkily dabs at his hand.

“I can be both! People contain multitudes, not just one true self!” She pokes her head out of the bag.

“Yeah, we’re not doing this.” Akira pushes her back in. “When I’m walking with you in public, don’t pop out. Especially not in school or on the subway, there’s a pet fee we’re going to be avoiding paying because I only have so many yen left in my savings and haven’t gotten permission from my guardian to get a job yet.”

Ryuji nods along to that. “Yeah, I got a part time job at a convenience store in Shibuya, but my next shift isn’t till Saturday afternoon so money is gettin’ tight.” 

“Oh, Kasumi was planning to give us the gym tour on Saturday. That going to interfere? And any chance you guys have an opening or know of one? I’m hoping to get a job in a week or two. Need my guardian’s permission technically in case the hours run past the time I’m supposed to be back by, so working on him for now.” Akira hefts the cat-bag onto his shoulder.

“Nah. School lets out a bit after noon, I’m not expected till almost four. We can get some trainin’ in, it’ll be good for the both of us. And for jobs I  _ think  _ we’re about full on part timers, but there’s a flyer with part and full time jobs the shops near the station advertise on. I’ll grab one for you off the stand on my way home today.” He sighs heavily. “Gotta get some shit done in the library first though. You can split if you want, I’m going to have do research.” He shudders, like he felt something slimy and unwholesome in his mouth at that word.

“Tomorrow then. Morgana, let’s hit the roads.” He heads down the stairs, parting with Ryuji as the other breaks off for the library, and so lost in his own head that he doesn’t notice the wavy auburn haired girl in gym clothes that had politely waited for them to descend the stairs on the third floor before heading up to the roof herself. He barely notices a thing all the way to the station.

As he (and his passenger) await the train, he fishes his phone out to get some communication with his small network of new friends in. Ignoring the bleating messages from his sister, he flips through contacts.

Akira -> Kasumi

Akira: Hey, Kasumi. Ryuji and I are both good for Saturday if you are

Akira: And I wanted to say thanks for yesterday

He waits a long few minutes and the reply comes while he’s boarding the train.

Kasumi: oh! Sorry, senpai! I was working some drills with my coach. Water break now for five minutes. I sincerely look forward to seeing where the both of you are at and helping push you that much further!

Kasumi: (ﾉ^_^)ﾉ

Kasumi: What are you thanking me for?

Akira: Not disbelieving Ryuji’s story. It doesn’t cast Kamoshida in the best light. He’s the school’s sport hero, and most accomplished graduate. 

Kasumi: I see

Akira waits a few more minutes and is almost to the Shibuya transfer off the Ginza line by the time she replies again. He was beginning to fear he’d scared her off with that.

Kasumi: Sorry! I had to retreat to the bathroom to be able to reply, this might take longer than my break.

Kasumi: I think it was very brave of Ryuji-senpai to be honest about this, since the story around the school isn’t very flattering. Mr. Kamoshida never struck me as a bad person but I’m as new here as you are and my experience in PE classes tends to be satisfactory

Akira snorts at that.  _ Ah yes, the competitive gymnast being satisfactory in high school gym. Color me shocked _ . He bets she just goes on autopilot and does perfectly.

Kasumi: But I can see he’s hiding a knee injury. Call it personal experience, though I never did anything so bad as to make a lasting impression. And when I asked around today about the track team the story I heard was less kind to Ryuji-senpai but also didn’t add up. The star of the track team punching a teacher for no reason than implied bad breeding? 

Kasumi: You have to work hard to get to where I understand he used to be at, you don’t snap out of the blue after just a hard practice.

Kasumi: So, I think I believe his story. I think one day more people will come around on Ryuji-senpai. If I have to work to help, then so be it.

Akira: So, like I said. Thanks. Catch you Saturday?

Kasumi: If you don’t want to join me for lunch tomorrow. I could use some company, not many other girls in my year seem to like me much…

  
  


_ And yes, the criminal transfer student is exactly what you need to polish up that image by comparison _ . Akira actually doesn’t think she’s realized that is him yet and he’s almost reluctant to tell her, even if her reaction to Ryuji’s tale clearly indicated she was willing to look beyond the surface of matters.

Akira: Maybe. I’ve been studying in the library most of my lunch breaks, but could use a break.

Kasumi: (=^ェ^=)

The train at last rumbles to a halt and he hefts his Morgana laden bag over his shoulders and departs. He’s out of the Teikyuu building when he hears a familiar voice, not even that distantly. Takamaki, Shiho’s friend, is damn near shouting into her phone in the middle of the plaza.

“Will you give it a rest? I already told you I’m not up for it.” A long silence. “You what?! And you call yourself a teacher?” Akira zeroes in on her by now, coming up behind. He doesn’t know if he should let her know she’s shouting in the middle of a public place or ask her what’s wrong at this point. “This has nothing to do with Shiho!” And then he stops. And that’s where it ends. She hangs up, folds in on herself, and weeps. “Shiho’s starting position…”

They’re both getting stares from passerby now, but Akira is way more concerned about whatever the hell he was just party to. “Takamaki? Are you okay?” She glances up at him and with lightning speed is on her feet and retreating from him.

“Kurusu?! The hell, were you listening?!” She clutches her bag like a life preserver in rough seas.

“You were shouting. Really, really clearly.” He gestures at the open area. 

“Yeah, well you could have moved on!” She snaps before catching herself. “No, that’s...you’re just walking by. What did you hear?” She looks absolutely despondent.

Akira feels his bag wriggle.  _ Yeah, I get it Morgana. Information. _ “Enough. That was Kamoshida wasn’t it?”

She nods, eyes watering. “He...Shiho…” 

Akira feels like she’s about to do something rash, like bolt or slap him. Neither one is good, and he wants to help her rather than initiate a chase so he goes with his gut instinct and produces the small tissue packet he fished out from his bag when Morgana scratched Ryuji. “Here. You don’t have to talk about whatever it is if you don’t want to, but I want to help if you’ll take it.” 

She glances down at his hands, raises a hand that quivers with tension and then breaks down into full on ugly crying.  _ Not what I was expecting _ . Akira tears the pack open and puts it in her hand which she takes.

“Here, come on. Let’s get off the street somewhere…” Somehow ‘off the street’ turns into a corner booth in a Big Bang Burger but it gives Ann a moment to get her composure back together while Akira goes to buy some kind of token purchase to quell the dirty looks from the girl at the counter.  _ Yeah, yeah. I know, we’ve all got our problems.  _

Takamaki is wiping her eyes but doing a sight better when he returns with a single tray of fries to split and waters. “I don’t get you, Kurusu. You don’t even know me, but you are... you know what, thanks. It doesn’t matter why you helped, but thank you. It wasn’t anything major, just an argument.” She sniffs and fishes out another tissue to wipe her nose with. 

“With Kamoshida.” Akira feels like an asshole pushing on this point, but something more than his obvious creeping on her was going on for that display and he really is sick of stumbling around in the dark.

“...Yes, with Mr. Kamoshida.” The golden light of sunset behind her back casts her visage in a golden glow, even with the harsh flourescents inside the restaurant. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors. That I’m with him, that we’re getting it on, whatever version you heard. It’s not true, not a word of it.” She toys with a napkin with one hand, maneuvering and twisting the paper. “That was him on the phone, yeah. I’d avoided giving my number to him for the longest time, but he found it somehow anyway. He’s demanding I go back to his place.” She locks eyes with Akira, who feels suddenly very naked without the mentally protective shield of his glasses in place. “You know what for.”

He grimaces, disgust churning in his gut. “Yeah.”

“Yeah…” She clenches a hand. “He’s threatening to take Shiho off her starter position on the team if I don’t.” He sees her jaw clench tight in anger. “I’ve been telling myself I can put up with this all for her sake. She’s my best friend, my only real one, she’s been there for me for years…” Tears run from her eyes again, but Akira can tell these are fueled by anger. “But I can’t. I can’t do it anymore. I hate him so much!” She snaps out. “Shiho is the only thing that matters to me in that miserable excuse for a school, but I can’t just grit my teeth and let that  _ creep  _ do whatever he wants with me!” She lights up with hot fury that actually throws Akira off his mental equlibrium. He could swear he feels Arsène laughing in the back of his mind. “What should I do?! You’re an outsider to this, please if you want to help Kurusu,  _ how do I get out of this _ ?!” She clutches that napkin to her face and her whole body draws inwards. 

Did he think of her as an angel earlier? His mistake for not recognizing that pain. Gods above. His hands are clenched tight into fists at that. “I think...that Kamoshida’s pride is tied entirely up in his volleyball team doing well to reflect well on him.” He starts off slowly. “If Shiho is a starter, she earned that spot.”

She seems surprised he actually had an answer. “I’m sorry. That was unfair to put that on you.” She takes a slow breath and wipes her eyes once more. “I can’t even believe I’m telling you this, we’ve only talked that once.” 

“They say it is supposed to be easier to talk to a stranger than someone whose opinion you already care about.” Akira shrugs. “And I think you’re in an awful situation, but I’m going to stand by that. Kamoshida would never jeopardize his precious volleyball reputation by taking a good player off the team, at least not for long. He’d do it for a week, maybe, hoping you’d crack and sleep with him.” Akira reaches up to toy with his absent glasses once more before realizing they’re gone. Must look like an idiot. 

“You know, most people usually just ignore me or make snide bullshit comments about my looks. You’re so weird, Kurusu. There’s seriously so much gossip about you. You don’t seem like a bad person, really. And what happened to your glasses?”

Akira pops a french fry into his mouth to stall, trying to decide how much to get into this but...well she just told him everything. Like with Ryuji before, an exchange seems fair. “Assault charge, convicted.” Her eyes widen with shock. “It was bullshit though. I got between a drunk guy who was either rich or well connected and some woman he was trying to shove into a car, he ate shit on the sidewalk and busted his forehead, and leaned on her to cover for him when cops showed.” Akira offers her the tray. “She seriously had her shirt torn open and big red finger marks on her chest, and I got the assault and battery charge. Also, Shiho took them. We met in the halls when I was on my way to meet with Ryuji.”

Ann’s face goes from shocked to horrified to outraged to crinkled with laughter in the course of seconds. “Yeah, that’s Shiho. I never got it but she likes to steal little things off friends. When she and I hang out I keep losing little accessories to her that show up months later.” She wipes away a tear of laughter this time and finally goes for a piece of the potato pile. “I think it’s just how she shows affection. So she adopted you just like she did me and Ryuji then?”

“Adopted?” Akira sips his water, keeping his face neutral. And remembering Shiho’s assessment of his readable mannerisms, trying to keep his body controlled too. Not sure how well that one was going.

“I’ll tell you the story some other time since you’re part of the Suzui nest now I guess, but it’s how she made friends with me and Ryuji back in middle school. She seems to feel an affinity for outsiders or lonely kids and just...decides you’re friends now. And then you are.”

That gets a smile to crack through Akira’s face. “Yeah, she kind of did.”

“You seemed kind of isolated, so I guess I’m glad for it. You can just call me Ann then. A friend of Shiho’s is my friend too.” She leans over the table. “I still wish there was something I could do to make Kamoshida just back off. Even if you are right about his team thing, he’s still creepy as hell. I honestly wish he’d just...change his mind or something, you know? Get bored and move on. Or at least try to fuck an adult.” She sneers. 

“...Yeah, me too. Maybe it can happen. Just keep turning him down and let him have to decide to give up or ruin his own teams.” Akira feels his bag wiggle at his side and maintains a deadpan face.  _ Yeah, Morgana, I know you’re listening _ . 

She laughs. “Yeah, as if. But...thanks for listening to me, Kurusu.”

“If you’re Ann, I’m Akira. I have had this discussion so many times lately.” He goes for his absent glasses once more, but manages to turn it into running his hand through his hair on the fly. “Ryuji, a first year we’re friends with, Shiho I guess had to have it with me…”

Ann gives a small, sad smile. “You’re making a little group of outsiders, aren’t you?” He doesn’t ask if she’s including herself in that. “Anyway, I’ve got to run. But don’t tell anyone what I told you, alright? That’s private.”

He nods and she departs. He cleans up the table, downs the last of his drink, and hefts his bag, unzipping it slightly and faking rooting around for something. Instead he makes contact with the almost luminescent blue eyes that stare at him from inside. 

“Alright, I’m in. Tomorrow I’ll work with getting Ryuji onboard.” 

The tiny head nods once, and emits a meowing cackle of laughter.

\---------------------

04/14/20XX

Thursday

Nighttime

Yongen-Jaya

Night falls while Akira rides the trains back home, and it is dark by the time he slips into Leblanc. Sojiro is alone again, seated at the counter with a cigarette in his mouth and cup of coffee at his side. And he is unamused by Akira’s tardiness. “You’re late, Kurusu. You know I can’t close shop till you’re in.” He folds his newspaper up. “Where were you anyway?”

That answer can be very, very long. So Akira decides to cut it down to size. “I made a friend. And got a date.” He gives a tight smile.

Sojiro almost lets the cigarette fall from his mouth in surprise at that last one. “Huh, can’t say I saw that coming. Well, good for you I guess. Just be careful of who your friends are, you hear? You are on thin enough ice, so don’t be hanging out with any bad influences on your own time. And try to think about me when you decide to stay out till this hour!” He manages to muster his gruffness, surprised or not.

“Sorry, Sakura-san. It wasn’t intentional, I just ran into a girl from my class on the way home and she was crying and I couldn’t just  _ leave _ at that. I took her somewhere to talk it out and calm down.” He rubs the back of his neck, feeling weird saying it out loud.

“And you asked a crying girl out?” Sojiro takes a long drag.

“Oh no, this is an entirely different person! Her friend is the one I’m seeing Saturday and I just realized how sketchy this sounds as I say it out loud.” Akira trails off and he feels a blush creep up his neck for something far less nice than the flirting earlier. He sounds like an absolute creep. “It isn’t though, they’re friends and this isn’t like I’m playing some kind of casanova bullshit, I swear!” 

Sojiro barks out a harsh laugh. “Ah, high school. Look, just don’t treat either of these girls bad and remember your situation. All I can ask. I’m going home, you can lock up.” He puts out the cigarette in its tray, tosses his apron over the back of a barstool, and makes his way out.

Akira waits a long minute, then unzips his bag. “Morgana, go upstairs. That’s where I live. Stay there. That guy you just heard was the owner of this place and I absolutely am in deep shit if he finds out I’m hiding a cat here. I’m going to run out, buy you catfood, then do dinner and homework for me. Got it?” 

She nods. “Got it. Stealth mission.”

He breaks into one of his wide, predator smiles that he seemed to only find in the metaverse before. “Good. Mission start.” He taps her paw with a fist and heads out the door to the night streets of Yongen-Jaya.

For a second night in a row, Akira’s sleep is untroubled by a dreamed jail cell. However, while he rests, Morgana explores. And Morgana finds a very fascinating looking deck of cards on the window sill that she thinks Akira might want to look at. And Morgana takes stock of a collection of tools on the still cluttered workbench and thinks she might have some ideas to put those to use. And Morgana explores the ground floor of the cafe, pacing the shelves where the master of this place keeps neatly organized jars of flavorful smelling beans. And that’s where Morgana is when, at 2 AM according to a clock on the wall, the door to the cafe opens with a click of a key in a lock and a girl who most definitely is not the man she heard earlier slips in, muttering to herself.

Which is why Morgana hightails it upstairs as fast she can move, because Akira definitely needs to be made aware of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter where I clearly decide to completely upend some pacing and some canon relationship stuff, I want to thank Virtual_Delirium for reading and giving feedback on my first draft of the scene with Shiho. I'm still not sure it is up to the level I want it to be at, but it is definitely miles better than it was thanks to feedback. I might simply be running into my limits as an unskilled author here.
> 
> Other than that, not much really to say! As ever, thanks for reading and any comments or critique as feedback is of course welcome.


	12. La Maison Dieu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night break in, an incident or three at school, and in which bad decisions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for suicide content, violence and more nose bleeds than I actually expected going into this.

04/15/20XX

Friday

Early Morning

Yongen-Jaya

“Wake up…” 

Akira feels a soft poke on his cheek as he drifts up from a dream. It was a nice one too! Mundane as hell, but reliving a memory of a happier time at home was miles better than another visit to the Velvet Room and it’s creepy master and aggressive wardens. Just him and one of his former friends wasting time on summer break the last year, roving the banks of the river that runs through town and seeing what weird junk they could find washed up from it. He could feel bad about it later, but right now in a barely conscious haze Akira just wants to go back to the pleasant dream and Megumi. Laughing about some lost porn rag found under a tire, seeing who could get the most distance on tossing a rock into the stream. Back before everything went to hell between the two of them. He waves an arm to ward off his assailant and drags the bed cover up to his face. “Fuck off Rin, it’s early…”

“Who the hell is Rin?” That soft poke turns into a firm swat with a furry paw, and his eyes snap open staring straight into Morgana’s blue ones. “ _Wake up_ , because there is someone in the cafe in the middle of the night and it isn’t the owner I think.”

Akira’s body is moving faster than his brain is, as he carefully slips his feet to the wooden attic floor and silently stands up. “Who is it then?”

“I don’t know! Some girl! Maybe a bit younger than you, she looked about the age of the first years at your school.” Morgana pads beside him. 

“Did she seem like she was trying to rob the register or something?” He crouches down next to her, whispering as quietly as he can. “Armed?”

“I don’t think so. When I saw her come in, I came up here to get you! I may not know a lot about the world without my memories, but I know someone showing up in the dark of the night to a closed shop is weird!”

Akira’s brain is going from sleep to adrenaline fueled in record time, but something about this is scratching at his memory while he’s at best half functioning right now. He can’t figure out what it is, so decides the next course of action with that same slurry of stress hormones in his brain. He elects to sneak up on this intruder and confront them. Excellent plan, brain, nothing can go wrong.

He puts one bare foot ahead of another, descending with barely a whisper of noise. He must have retained more of Morgana’s first lessons in stealth than he had thought. Even outside of the metaverse he was moving with more silence and grace than he would have expected. _Good_ , he thinks. He doesn’t know who this person is but if he can get the drop on them maybe they’ll spill something stupid. 

They’re hunched over at the end of the bar counter, the retro yellow landline phone disconnected and unplugged and the handset’s casing popped open. There’s a laptop open on one of the booths behind her, and she’s holding a penlight in her mouth to illuminate her work. Morgana hadn’t been kidding, the girl looked barely older than a middle school kid to Akira’s eyes. Which means first year high school aged, Morgana wasn’t too off. She was just so damn small with long stick limbs and no curves like someone who doesn’t eat enough or just went through a growth spurt, but if she was even five foot tall Akira would eat a shoe. But then again, her face wasn’t exactly gaunt. Half hidden by waist length dyed orange hair and large glasses, her round face looked healthy enough. Not gaunt, at least not in the ways he’s seen in someone trying to starve themselves for beauty.

She’s also deeply engrossed with whatever she’s working on, which is great because even while his movements were silent like a cat Akira’s body is still the size of a human and if she looked to the left even slightly as he descended the stairs she’d have had him dead to rights. As if she wasn’t breaking and entering anyway. He slips slightly back, shuffling quietly against the row of booths until he stands behind her. She’s humming merrily to herself as she toys with the guts of the handset. A snip here, a bundle of wires spliced in there, all to the sounds of the Featherman Victory opening guitar riffs as interpreted by a tone deaf teenager. Akira leans in behind her and while he isn’t exactly an expert on micro-electronics he could swear that is a very small microphone being put into place and getting a power leech from the phone itself. _Who the hell feels the need to bug a cafe?_ He also gets a strong whiff off the girl which was his own stupid mistake. Between stale sweat and accumulated teenager body odor reek...and he could swear he picks up the salty tang of the artificial Aburi-Mentaiko dusting off chips in that mix too, the answer to his question is apparently is someone who doesn’t exactly get out much. Which raises even more questions than it answers. Time to break her out of spy game reverie.

“So, what are you working on?” He leans in close to whisper at her ear, and while his intent was for a dramatic surprise the move is a bit personal. What happens next is in a way direct karmic response, really. 

The girl stiffens, shrieks, hopping off the barstool and standing straight up in one rapid move that slams the back of her head into Akira’s nose. The sharp smell of blood immediately overrides the unpleasant scent experience of having the girl get that much closer to him, but it isn’t really a trade up. He is still processing the flash of pain and feeling if anything broke when the girl bolts out the door with one hand and trying to reach out to her placatingly with the other. “Hey, wait! I’m sorry, I was just trying to scare you a little, not hurt…” With a jingle of the door’s bell chime, she’s gone. He lowers his hand. 

Morgana hops up onto the table the laptop is left on and gives him a concerned look. “That girl didn’t exactly seem like the hardened thief type. Are you okay?” 

He takes his hand away from his nose and it is glistening red. “She got me good, but I guess that’s what I get for startling her. Hold on, I need a to do something about all this blood…” He retreats to the bathroom and has a wad of paper towels to his face and bloody hand rinsed clean before he reemerges. Morgana is on the counter now, examining the work the girl was doing on the phone.

“Do you know what she was doing?” She turns her bright eyed stare on Akira as he approaches, lingering on the bloody cloth bundle.

“I know a bit about electronics from a hobby back home, but I’m not really an expert in whatever this is. It looks like she was trying to install a tiny microphone, I think.” Akira roots through the collection of wires to tug on the tiny coin sized object, and hates how thickly his voice is coming out with his nasal cavity flooded. “Actually not trying, she definitely did.” He looks at the open laptop. “She was getting a little spy recorder set up. Why though? What do you gain from bugging a coffee shop?” 

“She had a key too. What’s the point of all this work?” Morgana chimes in, and Akira’s heartbeat picks up. His brain is still not running at full capacity and something he’s not seeing here is starting to form up in his subconscious. He just isn’t seeing it yet. But going to inspect the door, there’s a small key ring with exactly two keys on it and two clacking ornaments. The eye of Horus and one of the iconic little 1-Up Mushrooms from Mario, rendered faithfully in blocky pixelation. 

“Who on earth would-” Akira’s brain finally remembers his introduction to Sojiro days ago. 

_“_ _I’ve got a daughter who has enough going on in her life without a delinquent adding stress to it.”_

His heightened heart rate suddenly slides into focus, clearly his subconscious caught onto this revelation sooner than his active mind. “That was Boss’s daughter.” His hand clenches the keychain. “What the hell?!” He tries to take this entire scene in again, the computer and the bugged phone but he clearly lacks imagination for a convicted criminal. There’s no good reason he can think of doing this other than a hefty rebellious dose of ‘because she could’. Maybe it was because of him? Spying on the criminal delinquent? Except he barely spends time in the cafe proper save for a meal at the start and end of the day.

This line of thinking was going to get him nowhere, not with his face hurting worse than his healing bruises and brain scrambled. He contemplates the phone for a long moment, but isn’t sure in his present state he can remove the bug without rendering the whole handset inoperable so with an annoyed grunt he tucks all the wiring back where it belongs and clicks the casing back together. He closes her laptop, tucks it back in the abandoned bag she left on the booth, locks the door, and ascends back to the attic. He roots around in his school bag for anything to write on and pen. The first thing he finds is his parole journal, dutifully being filled with the boring minutia of his days in class and carefully dancing around any interdimensional castles or feuds with this dimension gym teachers. It’ll have to do for now in his sleepy impatience, and he rips a page out near the back. He can’t do anything about what happened here tonight, but tomorrow is another day. He scribbles a note down on it and slips it into the closed laptop, to rest unseen inside. 

“What’d you write?” Morgana paws at the bag as Akira drags his feet back to bed. He tosses the bloodied wad of paper into the small trash bin he kept up here and collapses into bed. He’ll wash his face in the morning, for now his need for sleep was shooting up as the adrenaline high fades.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow. Just...bed. Night, Morgana.” Akira fades away for a few more hours of rest, hoping that was the last oddity to disrupt his night. He was going to have to explain some of what happened to Sojiro, and needed his wits about him if he planned to thread a lie carefully enough about what happened.

\----------------

Breakfast is a small omelette and rice with a side of curry the next morning, as it is becoming every day. Akira honestly can’t complain, the same meal every day might wear thin eventually but right now? It is proving to be a pleasingly stable part of his routine. And the older man’s recipe, with a cup of coffee with it, was astounding. He’d have to try and figure it out to take home before the year was out. Spicy, rich flavor, and just the right mingling of sweet and savory on the tongue and then the bitter coffee hit elevated it as an aftertaste. Or the curry elevated the coffee. Or they both did? 

He realizes he was getting so lost in reverie to try and avoid ruining the good mood by bringing up what happened last night and sighs into his coffee as he takes another sip. Just going to have to rip that bandaid off and hope the older man wasn’t going to blame him too hard for spooking his daughter. His apparently somewhat sheltered, technically inclined daughter with an overprotective father, which to Akira’s instincts screamed some kind of bad experiences with bullying or something. “Boss, before I head out I’ve got a question.” He scrapes the last of the eggs into his mouth with a bite of the curry while Sojiro looks up from the pot he was grating what seemed to be an apple into.

“I really should have told Dr. Takemi to not let you hear that nickname. Anyway what is it? You need to get going if you don’t want to be on the later train.” He frowns. 

“Does anyone besides you have a key to this place?” Akira doesn’t even wait for him to reply, just bulling forwards. “Because last night someone was in here at two in the morning. I heard a noise which woke me up so I went down to look into it. It was a girl, about so high,” He holds his hand up for reference, and Sojiro’s eyes go wide behind his own glasses. “Long hair, dyed orange, glasses. She was just on a laptop, but I think I spooked her when I came up behind her to see what the hell was up. She bolted out the door.” Akira produces her keys from his pocket. “Left these and her computer. I was half asleep until she ran, I’d forgotten you even have a daughter and that might have been her.” The keys go on the counter. “If it was her, I’m really sorry. I know you said to keep out of her way, but in my defense it was the middle of the night and I live here now. I put her computer back into the bag she left behind, both are sitting on the table at the top of the stairs. Though if that isn’t her that I just described...uh, we had a break in and I have the person’s stuff upstairs.” He gives Sojiro his best level gaze he can conjure at this hour. The other man is processing everything, that was definitely the longest speech he’d ever heard from Akira at the least.

“That’s...she’s…” Sojiro puts the lid back on the day’s curry batch and moves to the coffee grinder. The little rituals and practiced movements of making a perfect pour over cup for himself, rather than the daily blends that will be percolating in the vacuum siphons soon enough, seem to be centering him more. “Yes, that was Futaba. Thank you for being honest with me.” _Only mostly honest_ , Akira feels a twinge of regret. “Futaba should not have been out at that hour, or in this shop with a strange boy. No offense, but you’re still on your trial period here.”

Aside from vanishing into another dimension on the first day, Akira felt like he’d been doing pretty good this week all told. Still he drops his gaze, wishing he had an undamaged pair of glasses to hide his gaze behind. Might be worth a stop in the underground mall at Shibuya station on the way into class, even if each new purchase dwindled his tiny savings even further. He really needed to talk to Sojiro about a job, sooner than later. “I understand. It’s not a problem, I have only been here for a little while.”

That gets a satisfied _hrumph_ out of the man. “She’s not really a go outside anywhere kind of person in any case though, so that is surprising enough. Thanks for not tackling her as a thief or something.”

Both his hands go up, warding off that accusation as if he could physically block it. “Of course not! She seemed just engrossed with her computer, and I’m not about to tackle someone that looks like they’re not even a hundred pounds when wet. You know my story, Boss. I’m not going to...I’m not.” He finishes lamely, wondering where the hell his usual ability to put up a facade or talk like a normal human being likes to disappear to whenever his arrest comes up.

“I never said you were, but she was also a stranger at night and I know how gut instinct can be.” He measures out his ground beans on a small electric scale and transfers them to the filter as the small kettle on the stove reaches whatever exacting temperature point he wanted it at. “No harm done, and thanks for holding onto her stuff. Now get going, you have a train to catch. I don’t want to hear a call from your school today about your being late again.” 

“Got it. I’m gone.” He hefts his bag which Morgana was carefully ensconced in before he ever descended the stairs for breakfast. Akira and Morgana depart, back to school, with the conversation with Sojiro going well feeling like a good omen to the student. Today’s going to be a good day, he can feel it. 

And safely tucked away from prying eyes in Futaba’s laptop, a small scrap of paper awaits unknowing delivery.

_“I’m sorry if I scared you last night. I didn’t touch anything on your computer or tell your father what I saw.”_ And below it he scribbled his contact info. Akira didn’t know if she’d actually reach out to him after that scare, but he didn’t rat out her bug to Sojiro either and that has to be something.

\--------------------------------

04/15/20XX

Friday

Morning

Shujin Academy

Akira scored a seat on the train by pure good fortune, allowing him to put his bag on his lap and unzip it slightly so Morgana could poke her nose out for a bit of fresh air while he plucked out his rented library book and finished reading this short collection of Arsène Lupin shorts. He was finding the character growing on him, the con artist and thief operating with a sense of flair and multiple secret guises felt appropriate somehow. He’ll have to return it, finally finishing this one. He knows there’s far more written than just this, so maybe he’ll get lucky and the library will have more. Or he can try looking around the city once he gets a job and regular money flow, there’s got to be a new or used bookstore that he’ll luck out with.

Aside from a brief run in with Ryuji, that amounted to shouted greetings while hustling to their classrooms, and the nervous release of Morgana from his bag placed covertly on his lap and into his desk, the morning goes like any other gray and hazy day. The definitely-a-cat has to be removed for her own breathing needs and the fact he can’t have her sitting in a bag he’ll be rooting through all day long at this point, so he is placing a lot of faith on her promise she will be comfortable enough in the school desk to be able to sleep through a few hours of class.

It’s during Mr. Ushimaru’s lecturing on the absolute basics of their national government that Akira really starts to drift this morning. He gets it, reiterating the structural stuff before going into a deeper topic helps remind fuzzy brains what is even going on. And it is an election year, this is probably all leading into him assigning them some kind of extended paper or homework about the upcoming Diet elections. But with the gentle patter of drizzling rain against the window to his left, it’s all he can do to keep his eyes open behind his (new, overpriced) glasses. He drifts, half listening and half mulling on what he can say to Ryuji today to convince him to take a risk on going for Kamoshida’s palace directly. _He and Ann and Shiho used to be friends, I can’t really tell him exactly what she told me and not break that trust but he’s figured half of it out already. Maybe just lean on that part-_

“Holy shit!” One of the students on the far side of the room, not anyone Akira’s spoken to besides ignoring rumors about himself when passing by, near windows to the halls outside stands abruptly. The girl behind him leans forward to look through the window and is up just as quickly.

“Oh my God, is she…” The girl, who Akira realizes he doesn’t know the name of either, has a hand to her mouth.

“Hey! Sit down and shut up, class is still going!” Ushimaru snatches a piece of chalk from the tray below the board and gets ready for another one of his devastating throws. He hesitates moment in choosing a target. _At least he’s a true egalitarian_ , Akira thinks with a small smile to himself before the next moment turns that smirking observation into ash in his mouth.

“She’s going to jump!” The boy races from his seat out the door and into the hall to get a better look at the apparently impending suicide and Ushimaru loses all control of the class. Akira races out to the hall along with everyone else, anxiety spiking and body tensing. When he gets into the hall and gets a look out the window he feels like something inside him physically draws taught, a wire ready to break.

Shiho Suzui is outside, on the roof of the practice building across the courtyard, on the outside of the safety fence that rings the rooftop. 

_We just spoke yesterday. She was making plans for the weekend! What is happening?!_ Anxiety and a spike of fear roil in his gut. _Maybe someone can get to her, talk her back, the practice building isn’t that far off…_

“Akira!” Ryuji races up besides him from his class down the hall. “Space out later, we have to do something-” His eyes widen just as Akira’s do. 

The time anyone could take action passes. Shiho steps into thin air and he can barely even react before her passage down is complete, reduced to gaping at the now empty roof like a rank idiot. Akira feels like his stomach dropped with her, a sucking void of shock. 

“No, Shiho!” He’s almost body checked as Ann Takamaki bolts for the courtyard. So engrossed with the scene happening he hadn’t even noticed she was right next to him the whole time. 

“Dude, come on!” Ryuji steadies him before he falls on his ass. “Follow her!” He takes off, and Akira follows. It takes long minutes of struggle that both boys want nothing to do with. They have to try twice to circle around the crowds of gawking students clogging the doors to the courtyard and Akira almost knocks over that brunette from the library he keeps running into as he and Ryuji force their way through the less occupied practice building to get outside. The movement helps him not get lost in the feeling of shocked horror twisting inside. Anything to hold that in abeyance for a little while at least.

The courtyard is crammed full of students as well, dozens of them with phones out and recording the entire tragedy before them. _Goddamned sociopaths_ , Akira wants to snatch a phone out of the hands of the student nearest them and smash it to pieces but that isn’t going to solve anything.

Someone at least had the presence of mind to call an ambulance when Shiho initially fell, there’s paramedics kneeling in the wet grass with her putting her onto a gurney while Ann clutches the girl’s hand. Akira doesn’t like the looks of her legs, one of which is twisted entirely wrong and the other… He swiftly averts his eyes, but not fast enough to unsee the white of bone and red of blood. She’s awake somehow too, eyes still open and blinking while Ann holds her and whispers to her. For a moment at least. Her eyes close and head drops even as Akira and Ryuji push forwards through the crowd. “Holy shit, dude, is she…” Ryuji pales.

_Dead eyes, like a corpse_ . That’s how Akira remembers seeing her in the hall yesterday, pale and withdrawn. She’d been better when they talked, he knew that things couldn’t be good for the volleyball team but he just assumed it wasn’t _this_ bad. He feels an icy weight settle in his core, the shock being replaced by guilt congealing into a sick mix of anger and remorse.

“No...oh no…” Ahead of them one of the spectators turns and runs. Mishima, his class rep, bolts from the courtyard. He shoves Ryuji to the ground and Akira catches an elbow as he goes, leaving both of them watching him flee. 

“What the eff, man?” Ryuji takes Akira’s offered hand and is dragged to his feet. “He looks like he saw a ghost.” 

Akira’s focus is on the two girls. The paramedics heft Shiho onto the gurney after a brief pulse check. She isn’t gone then. Just unconscious. It does nothing about that guilt in his soul, but at least she isn’t gone. _Not yet_ , his nasty inner voice feels fit to remind him. “We need someone to come with her to the hospital.” One of the paramedics is looking specifically at the teachers in the courtyard while saying that, and like everything Akira has come to expect from this school they collectively fail in the weakest manner possible.

“She’s not in my homeroom!”

“This sounds like something for Principal Kobayakawa!”

“I really shouldn’t get involved…”

_Worthless assholes._

“I’ll go.” Takamaki wipes her face with a hand, anger twisting her features. “She’s my friend, I’ll go with her.” 

The paramedic gives one last incredulous look at the teachers then nods. “Come on then, follow us. Ambulance is parked out front.” The two of them shove the wheeled gurney into motion with Takamaki following at a run while the cherry blossoms rain down on them all. It’d be like a surrealist portrait if not for the very real injured girl.

“Hey.” A hand on his shoulder breaks Akira out of his reverie. Ryuji gives Akira the most serious look he’s seen out of the guy. “Mishima?”

Akira nods. “He knows something. He cracked before, just a little.”

“We’ll make him spill it all this time.” Ryuji nods back.

They race off together chasing Mishima. He isn’t hard to find, he fled back into the practice building and was lingering outside one of the locker rooms dedicated to sports clubs. Akira checks for witnesses and Ryuji physically grabs the smaller student and shoves him inside. Akira slips in, shutting and twisting the door lock behind him. No interruptions today. No Kamoshida.

“That hurts! The hell is wrong with you?!” Mishima clutches at his wrist where Ryuji had dragged him in, and finds both of the taller boys looming over him.

“You bolted from there the instant Suzui lost consciousness. Why?!” Ryuji is bouncing his bad leg in agitation, struggling to keep his cool while memories of Suzui’s injured form burn in his memory.

Akira notes the tension in his companion, but isn’t doing much better himself. He has both hands in his pockets, clenched painfully tight into fists. Mishima knows something, and he isn’t going to deflect this time. “What do you know, Mishima?”

“Nothing! I didn’t-” He quails, and Ryuji snaps first.

“She jumped and tried to kill herself!” He is abruptly deep into Mishima’s personal space, roaring in his face.

“Go away!” He slinks backwards until his back runs into the hard corner of a wall and locker. 

“Nowhere to run, and no time for lies.” Akira inches forwards. “Just tell us, Mishima.”

“We ain’t gonna get you in trouble. We won’t tell anyone you said anythin’.” Ryuji realizes he’d been looking like he was about to thrash the guy, and relaxes just a tiny bit. Tries to offer honey instead of pain. “Just...if you know anythin’ man, this is the time. Suzui’s hurt real bad.”

Mishima’s deflected gaze finally rises up to match the other two. “Suzui was…” He closes his eyes and plunges forwards. “Suzui was called out by Mr. Kamoshida! Yesterday!”

“Called out meaning what, Mishima?” Akira leans in. Finally getting somewhere and given what just happened, any qualms he has about digging too hard causing problems seemed to miraculously evaporate when Shiho fell. “What does he do?”

Mishima is clutching his head now, fully lost in a panicked breakdown. “Whenever he’s in a bad mood he’ll pick someone who made a screwup at practice, take them to his office, and beat them! He’d done it to me, he’s done it to Suzui, he’s done it to a bunch of others! He was _pissed_ yesterday after practice, but Shiho didn’t do anything wrong! He still called her to his office and...I don’t-I don’t know! But today s-she jumped, and is that my fault?!”

Ryuji balks, confused. “How the eff would it be your fault, Mishima?!”

Akira got it though. “He used you as a messenger, didn’t he?” That gets a small nod. “And then today and you blame yourself.” Another nod. “Don’t. He’s a fucking teacher, and he used you.”

Ryuji is piecing several pieces of this together, and when they all connect in his head his brain shorts out with fury. “That son of a bitch!” And without conscious decision, he’s moving. Racing to the Phys. Ed. office that Kamoshida has all to himself in this same building.

“Holy shit! Kurusu, he’s going to...I don’t know, but it isn’t going to be good! We need to go after him!” Mishima very suddenly finds courage that Akira hadn’t seen in him before. 

“Yeah, we should. Come on.” He takes off, not even looking back to see if Mishima was following. Ryuji has a head start and injured leg or not can really put on a turn of speed when he wants. Akira feels bad for wishing his leg would just go out as they race him to the PE faculty office but wiping out on the floor is a damn sight better than whatever Kamoshida’s going to do to him when Ryuji bursts in there and acts before thinking. Break his leg again? See him expelled? 

Ryuji beats them to the faculty office though, slamming through the door seconds before Akira and Mishima make it, and Ryuji is already shouting at Kamoshida by the time the two of them breathlessly stumble in. “The hell did you do to her?!” 

Kamoshida, sitting at the cluttered desk on a far wall favors their entire group a look of absolutely weary disdain. “Who, Sakamoto? I know thinking things through isn’t your strong suit, but you need to use names before you swap to the pronouns.” He waves Ryuji off, a lazy dismissal. 

“Who?! Suzui you bastard!” Ryuji advances on the seated man, fist clenched and fury screaming in his heart. Mistake number one. Kamoshida rises, towering over their group. 

“Enough!” As Kamoshida advances, Akira is reminded of the fact this man has several inches and dozens of pounds of muscle on them all, is alone with them, and the entire reason they’re here is because Mishima confessed to his delivering casual beatings to students. This situation could be better. They need an out, immediately.

“What you did…” Mishima finds his spine at long last, right when Akira begins to realize that this right here is the worst time for that to happen. “It wasn’t coaching, it was beatings! Abuse! You told me to get Suzui for you yesterday, and today she fucking jumped!”

Kamoshida glares down at their group then sighs. “How unfortunate you have to make up these lies, Mishima, just because you’re upset you can’t be a regular on the team. Dragging the delinquent and criminal in too, even while the school was being so generous with both of them to allow them here? You’re not just ruining your own future now.”

“What?! No, that’s not-” He starts, bruised eyes widening.

“Well, it’s your word against mine and you have no proof.” Kamoshida’s glare takes on an edge of amusement. “After all, Suzui’s in a coma.” He produces his phone, almost taunting them with it. “Principal Kobayakawa just sent an update from the hospital to all staff, she slipped unconscious on the way there and nothing is waking her up. Who can be expected to give testimony in that state?”

Mishima looks like the world is ending, face pale and hands shaking. Ryuji’s thunderous temper is barely being held back. And Akira can’t even formulate a come back, feeling sick over what happened with Shiho somehow being worse now.

“You son of a bitch!” Ryuji takes a step forwards. 

“Oh, what’s this? Are we going to have to have another little self defense incident? Want me to ruin your other leg?” Kamoshida leans down to lock eyes with Ryuji and smiles. “Well come on then, hit me. I know you want to, whore son. Just like daddy, right?” 

Ryuji screams in fury, fist raising and Akira snatches at him with reflexes born of stress and literally yanks his friend into a backwards stumble. “Ryuji, no!”

Kamoshida laughs. “What, not letting him vent? What a terrible friend you are. After all, you’re all already expelled.” 

Akira’s veins run with ice. “What?”

“You heard me. All three of you are expelled once I bring this threat up at the next staff meeting. Mishima too, since he was clearly the mastermind inciting his punk companions.” Kamoshida crosses his arms. “You brought this on yourselves you know. You didn’t have to come here, you didn’t have to decide to threaten me.” He glares down at all three of them. “But time for you to take responsibility for your actions.”

“Our actions?!” Ryuji almost tears free of Akira, but he holds his grip tight.

Akira leans in to whisper in Ryuji’s ear. “Castle.” That quiets him down and gets a silent, choppy nod.

“Y-you can’t! We didn’t do anything!” Mishima is entering the bargaining stage of grief on this topic pretty fast.

“Didn’t you? Besides being part of this gang today, wasn’t it _you_ who leaked the transfer student’s conviction to the world? Out there for everyone to see, right on the student forums!” Kamoshida affects mock concern on his face, but his voice is crowing with delight at getting the better on three teenagers.

Akira barely even notices that. There’s a roaring in his ears and white hot anger in his heart. The cautious part that wanted them to make a retreat is buried under Arsène’s fury and the offended screech of Pixie intermingling in the back of his mind. Mishima is saying something, he doesn’t process it but Ryuji does as he watches his friend’s eyes go from nervous to his dead flat emotional wall that’s usually up. “Akira, dude, come on, you know what Kamoshida is like to the students…”

“Because you told me to! It was-” Mishima’s cut off as Akira’s fist collides hard with his nose, sending the boy sprawling with an instant spurt of blood.

Akira comes back to himself staring down at his own bloodied fist, Mishima staring up at him with watering eyes as he holds a hand to what might be an actually broken nose, and Kamoshida’s mocking laughter ringing the whole office. There’s an audible click as Kamoshida snaps a shot of the scene with his phone. “Oh even better, thanks criminal. Now are we just about finished? I have work to do.” 

Ryuji just about snarls a reply. “You’ll get what’s coming to you, asshole.” He has barely calmed down from the peak of anger, but with Akira reminding him about the castle and Morgana’s plan? Yeah, he can hold back for a moment. Akira still seems like he’s in shell shock over lashing out, so Ryuji offers Mishima a hand. “Come on dude, let’s get you cleaned up.” He leads the silently weeping figure out and across the hall to the men’s room. Thankfully empty, he doesn’t know what the hell he’d have done if there was any other student in there. “Akira, go and get Morgana. After all that with Suzui they have to be lettin’ us out early, right? I’ll catch up with you.” 

Akira can sense a dismissal with that too, even in his haze. Yeah, he probably needs to be away from Mishima for both of their goods. He wipes his bloodied hand on his dark uniform pants and hopes nobody notices, and almost robotically sets off back to 2-D. 

“Who’s Morgana?” He hears Mishima rather thickly ask as Ryuji steers him inside.

“Nothin’ to worry about, man. Now come on, I’ve busted my nose enough times to know how to clean this up.” Ryuji’s voice is the last thing Akira hears as he slinks off sick with guilt, worry, anger, and now shame. 

The school is slowly emptying as Akira retrieves Morgana, letting the sort-of-cat clandestinely slip into his bag when he returns to the emptying room. “What was that?! Where did you go?” She hisses out from inside.

“We’ll explain later, but we’re meeting Ryuji.” Akira hefts his bag without another word, even over Morgana’s yowled objections. Akira waits for Ryuji at the small corner of vending machines in the courtyard, what is becoming their usual meeting spot. The courtyard itself isn’t empty entirely, with students criss crossing the covered walkway between the gym, main classroom, and practice buildings but everyone is giving a wide berth to the corner here. Not five feet from where he stands with his hands in his blazer pockets there’s a still visible smear of blood on the wet grass and churned mud. 

Yeah, he gets why people might be backing off from the spot now. It’s uncomfortable. A reminder that a real person, that some of these people know, was broken on the ground here not long ago. _Memento mori_. Akira places the bag on the table and unzips it to let Morgana out. Ryuji isn’t here yet so he gets her caught up.

Morgana doesn’t say much, not even when he gets to the part about punching Mishima, but gives a sigh when it is all done. “You guys really rushed ahead without thinking on this didn’t you? How long before you’re expelled then?”

Akira opens his mouth to reply but finds he doesn’t actually have an answer. “Not this week, probably. Ryuji’s in though, so we might be able to rush on this-”

“Hey! Sorry I’m late.” Ryuji races around the corner with his energy undimmed at least. “I was helpin’-”

“Mishima. Is he okay?” Akira looks down, hands tucked firmly in his pockets.

“Yeah, you just busted his sinuses. Nothin’ broken. He doesn’t blame you or anythin’, y’know. Never thought you’d be the one to lose your cool though, dude.” Ryuji honestly didn’t know Akira had that kind of capacity for acting without thinking in him, same as him in a way. But then again he saw him in action in the castle, and knew he was keeping a lid on a lot of shit. Maybe that last bit was just one pin too many on the camel’s ass or something.

“Well, _I_ blame me.” Akira sulks and Morgana is not about to let this turn into a self deprecating pity party.

“Look, what happened is done. Do better in the future if it is eating you up. Right now we need to focus on the big picture: Kamoshida did something to a girl that led her to try and take her life. You two are going to be expelled, soon.”

“Star ‘a the month.” Ryuji chimes in. “Staff meetin’ is usually the first week of each new month. So we got a bit over two weeks. It’ll be on the second.”

“Sixteen days then.” Morgana gives both of them an even stare with her bright blue eyes. “And you’re both resolved to this? Willing to take the risk to change Kamoshida’s heart?”

“Yeah. Nothing like what happened to Shiho should be allowed to happen again. He’s hurting the teams, and I was willing to just go slow on this because it didn’t seem like anyone was in real danger.” Akira adjusts his new glasses. “That was stupid and she paid the price.”

“Hell yeah I’m in. No more from that piece of trash!” Ryuji pumps a fist. “So what’re we gonna do?”

“I want in too, with whatever you’re planning with Kamoshida. And don’t you dare pretend like you weren’t just discussing that. Wait, is that a cat?!” A fourth voice joins this conversation. Ann Takamaki strides out from behind the blind corner connecting the little vending machine corner of the courtyard to the covered breezeways and Akira realizes that this is far from the first time people they haven’t been able to see were listening in on them from there. We _are moving all future conversations about ANY of this bullshit to somewhere without blind corners._ Her presence stirs the cold weight in his core though.

“Takamaki, you’re back? How’s Shiho?” Akira ignores the cat comment while Morgana runs to hide directly behind him.

“Who is she? That’s the girl from Kamoshida’s cognition right? She’s even more meowvelous and beautiful in person…” Morgana sighs behind Akira’s back.

Takamaki’s face goes from stern to sad in a heartbeat. “She’s stable. The doctors don’t know when she might wake up though. Her parents came and I was sent back to get my stuff.” She hefts her bag for emphasis. “But anyway! You, Sakamoto, Kamoshida, plans. Spill them, Kurusu.”

“Ain’t nothin’ we can say. Stay out of it, Takamaki.” Ryuji intercedes between Akira and her.

That gets an angry stomp and approach to Ryuji. “Like hell I will! Shiho’s my friend, and if you two are going to be doing anything about him I want in!” She rises right up to meet his challenge, green-blue eyes brightening. Anger driving out the sorrow, Akira notes. _Maybe…_ a sort of plan begins to form in his head. 

“You ain’t even got a Person-” Ryuji stops himself before he utters the full word, but it is enough to make Ann’s eyes rise.

“A what? That was some kind of western word.” Of course, the girl raised overseas catches on to that one. 

“Enough! You can’t help, so you’d best stay out of our way! It’s for your own good!” Ryuji scowls at her.

“...Fine.” She sighs. “Are you two really going to be expelled too? I heard that all over when I came back.”

“Wow, Kamoshida really moves fast doesn’t he? It’s been what, an hour?” Akira gives his most dangerous smiles. “So he says, but I think we’ll be fine. Ryuji, come on man. No point waiting around to do this. We should go to the alley, right? Don’t want to stick out like sore thumbs when we do this. See ya, Takamaki.” He is being deliberately over casual trying to get the hell out of here, and hoping she is as attentive as she’s been demonstrating before.

Ryuji perks up. “Well, you sound better than you did five minutes ago. Done mopin’? We’ve got this, dude!” He hefts his bag, and Morgana vanishes into Akira’s even as Ann watches. She gives the girl a wink with her bright blue eyes that actually elicits a gasp. 

“What kind of cat is-Ugh, you know what? Who cares. You assholes have your secrets. I’ll figure out something on my own.” Ann Takamaki storms off, leaving their group alone. 

“Well, glad she’s gone.” Ryuji beams at Akira. “We can’t really explain to her what we’re doin’, right?”

“You could still have been nicer about it.” Morgana pokes her head out of Akira’s bag and over his shoulder. “Her friend was really hurt by this guy, she’s got a lot of right to want to be involved. If she had a Persona that’d be an entirely different story, but she’s just a normal girl. She can’t fight in there.” Morgana heaves out a sigh against Akira’s ear, warm and tickling him with his own hair. He reaches up to give a small scratch at Morgana’s collar.

“Yeah, I get you. But come on, back in the bag. We still need to leave school. You both ready for this, back to the palace?” Akira glances to Ryuji specifically. His full body bruising is healing nicely, but he’s still more than a bit stiff and tender. He has no idea what Ryuji’s leg is like on top of that.

Ryuji slaps his leg with an open palm. “I’m fine. I managed to run all the way to the office today didn’t I? If it gets so bad I can’t fight, I’ll tell you. I promise. No point goin’ in and actin’ like a tough guy if it just gets you hurt, right?”

“And I’ve been ready for days.” Morgana affirms in his ear before sliding back down to her claustrophobic bag carrier.

Their group moves, slipping out of school and through the thinning crowds of students, into the alley. Ryuji is staring down at the MetaNav on his phone. “Still so damn weird, just a few keywords and poof, you’re in the middle of an effin’ other world.” He rolls his neck.

“Yeah. Kamoshida the pervert, king of of the castle of Shujin Academy. I’m ready to go tear his castle down” Akira cracks his knuckles, seeing a flash of a white hoodie and red leggings ducking against the wall outside their alley. He leans on the wall, near the edge. _This is stupid and dangerous, but if anyone has a right to try and after my own stupid fucking inaction got us all here…_ He pulls his phone out and enters the nav. “We’re good to go?” He gets a series of nods from both the human and temporarily not so. “Showtime.” He hits the button.

“Beginning navigation” Its robotic voice chirps out as the world ripples and twists once more.

Akira is so engrossed with his scheme involving Ann he doesn’t even notice a second flash of red in his peripheral vision before the school’s gate warps and twists into a curtain wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knowing this was going to be a heavier chapter, why not start off with slapstick and a stinking teenagers joke? That's not incongruous mood or anything, right? Right?!
> 
> This chapter was hard for me to write, because I wanted to make the actual turning point of Shiho's suicide attempt hurt but not be gratuitous in pain or imagery. I'm far from done with her yet, but this is her exit for many chapters even though her scene last one was really her personal exit story wise for a while given that was a scene she was an active party in. This is more a fated denouement or something. I hope it reads well, this one kept bouncing between too unemotional and brief and a bit overwrought in a way I don't think I had the skills to really double down on as an author. And apologies to Shinya Oda, whose arcana role has been replaced via the power of conservation of characters and wanting to really do something with Shiho rather than her barely existing as a character.
> 
> This is apparently also the bully Mishima chapter. I actually like the character, but this is not a good time to be him and around these two on a mission to destroy Suguru Kamoshida. He's (definitely) owed an apology of a sorts, maybe they'll even realize it! He did a shitty thing, but he's an abused guy trying his best to maintain standing in a prestigious sports program that might equate to a good college. As ever, Kamoshida is the real villain.
> 
> Another longer chapter than I personally was expecting, but some scenes took on a life of their own in the end and the way I decide where to cut chapters is by where a good narrative point to my eyes hits, so sometimes that's just how it goes I guess. Thanks to anyone who reads, and any feedback or critique is welcome and desired!
> 
> And to anyone else trapped in the middle of unexpected horrible winter weather, from Texas to Tennessee to any other icy hell being impacted by the polar vortex in the US right now, I hope you're all safe and warm and indoors.


	13. A Night at the Opera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thieves return to the palace and learn what a seraglio is, Ann learns some uncomfortable truths, and the author tests the limits of their ability to write about blatant sexual content without trying to make it sound like smut by accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for discussion of rape and uncomfortable sexual situations

When am I going to love you?  
My word, I don't know.  
Perhaps never, perhaps tomorrow;  
but not today, that's certain.

 _Carmen_ , by Georges Bizet

04/15/20XX

Friday

Afternoon

The Castle of Lust

Akira relaxes as the world finishes rippling, and he feels the comforting weight of his alternate universe outfit settle on his shoulders. It is just a suit and the leather frock coat at the end of the day, but even the presence of the gray vest feels somehow more like armor than the school uniform he first wore into this world. Ryuji is rolling his shoulders, his leather jacket and the protective plating sewn onto it’s back have to be miles beyond that. Across the street from their entrance point, the castle rises high into the black sky. There’s less of the threatening red clouds tonight, instead the sky is clear to reveal a starless sky and the moon looking impossibly huge and glowing with a red-gold malevolence. Something about that sends a shiver down Akira’s spine, an ancient part of him responding to the thing’s size being so very much abnormal.

“You ready to go, man?” Ryuji is entirely untroubled at least. He extends a hand and just like before an iron pipe forms out of thin air. Akira can feel his gun and knife on his hip, and somehow is loosely aware of his school bag’s contents somehow inside his coat pockets, but is still not sure how that works. 

“Yeah, let’s do this thing. Morgana, so what’s the specific plan today? You’re the exper-”

“What the hell is this?!” Ann Takamaki staggers into view from around the corner, eyes locked on the castle. “What happened to the school?! Akira, Ryuji, expla-” She turns their way and the question dies on her lips, in favor of a new one as she scans them up and down. “What the hell are you guys wearing?” And her gaze settles on Morgana. “A monster cat?!”

“I’m not!” Morgana, as an anthropomorphic cat like creature that wouldn’t be hard to mistake for a monster without any context, is deeply distressed. “And how are you even here?!”

“Ann, you have to get out of here! You have no effin’ idea how dangerous this place is!” Ryuji looks more frightened than angry under his mask and Akira very suddenly feels a twinge of guilt for setting this up.

“Everyone, stop yelling! Shadows might hear us. Now look, I brought her. I’m sorry for lying about that, but...” He steps between the two of them. 

“...How? You told her to eff off too!” Ryuji glances between Ann and Akira.

Morgana sighs heavily. “He mentioned the alley, really obviously, and then waited to make sure she followed us before hitting the nav. Right, Akira?”

“Yeah.” He takes off his white mask to address Ann who was staring their group down with eyes wide, especially on Morgana. “Ann, this is why Ryuji was trying to warn you off. What we’re going to do to Kamoshida is going to happen in this place, which is even weirder than you think. The costumes aren’t even half of it. There’s monsters, and people can get really hurt here.”

“Then why did you want to show me?” Ann is getting past the surface level weirdness of everything happening and trying to zero back in on why she’s here. “Ryuji was against it and...seriously, cat thing. What are you? W-were you the cat from back at school?”

“I am NOT a cat! I wish people would stop saying that! I am Morgana!” She hops forwards. “And I’m sorry...Lady Ann was it?” Morgana tests that out on her tongue and likes the feel of it. “But Ryuji is right, you really shouldn’t be here. You can’t help us do what we’re about to try…”

“Why not? Is it because I don’t have weird magical fetish gear?” She gestures vaguely at Akira, who frankly feels like he’s some kind of modern gentleman thief more than anything else but _does_ have to admit it is a suspicious amount of leather all told around here. 

“Because you don’t have a Persona, and without one you can’t fight the shadows that fill this place!” Morgana gestures up to the castle. “And Akira, you know this! Why did you lure her here?!”

All sets of eyes whirl on him. Ryuji crosses his arms. “Yeah, what’s that about? You and me and the cat!”

“I am not!”

“And Morgana, we can fight here. And we’re goin’ deep today, right Morgana?” 

She nods her big head. “Yeah. To destroy this place, and rid Kamoshida of his twisted desires, we’re going to have to go deep and steal something that’s like a fundamental keystone here.”

Ryuji focuses back on Akira. “So what have you got to say, man?”

Akira bites his lip and tries to formulate an acceptable reply, but he only has the truth that makes him sound like a trusting idiot or careless asshole. One of the two, he’s sure. “Because I think she has every right to try and pursue justice against Kamoshida after what happened today. You didn’t have Captain Kidd when we both went in here the other day, and you knew by then how dangerous it was here. And that was just us trying to help out the captives, you know? He did something to Suzui that was above and beyond everything we heard from Mishima today. She’s hurt and in the hospital because of what _he_ did. I think Ann has a right to be here.”

Ann spares him a look at that speech. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that many words out of you in one go, Akira. And he’s right, especially if you’ve proven you can get in and out without whatever the hell a Persona is Ryuji.” She crosses her arms and glares at him. “I want in, and if I can’t fight you can find some other way for me to help.”

“And also if you don’t let her help, odds are she has the MetaNav on her phone now with the castle preloaded into it.” Akira produces his phone. “Same as happened with you, Ryuji.”

“Shit! You’re right!” Ryuji stomps his foot. “Alright, I change my vote. Better she’s with us than goin’ in here alone.”

The wide eyed Morgana shoots nervous looks between Akira and Ryuji, then concedes. “Alright. Lady Ann, we’re going to get you caught up very quickly and probably miss a few things. But when we go in we’re going to have to insist you keep back from the fighting. Maybe…”

“Rear guard.” She speaks up. “I’ll stick to the back, fine, and make sure nobody is sneaking up on you. That sound like something useful enough?”

“Given we got ambushed on the way out of here last time, extra eyes can’t hurt.” Akira returns his mask to his face and neglects to mention that the ambush they’re speaking of came from overhead and not behind. “Besides, maybe we can get her an airsoft gun like mine?” He produces the pistol with a flourish.

“What’s the point of a toy gun?” Ann eyes it with some obvious confusion. “To psych out whoever is in there or something?

“Ah, that’s just the thing. In this world it isn’t a _toy_.” Morgana beams. “Let’s catch you up on the metaverse, so we’re all on the same page.”

So huddled together across the drawbridge from the Castle of Lust, Morgana once more puts on her teaching hat. She catches Ann up as much as she can in the whispered huddle, covering the idea of this castle as a place created from Kamoshida’s twisted heart and the fact monsters dwell within that the others call shadows. Ann listens, not able to deny the world she sees before her even if she clearly has many, many questions that she wants answered. Morgana talks about the power of Persona without dwelling hard on what they are, and how the altered clothing is a way to help protect them against the distortions of this world that want to sweep them up and make them play parts and highlights why she is so concerned about Ann’s presence here.

Ann is not budging ground on that. 

“So that’s just about everything we can cover quickly. Which gets us to the final part: How do we destroy this place and remove Kamoshida’s twisted desires. I’ve been stringing you guys on a bit about this, but I can’t be blamed for interruptions outside my control.” Morgana crosses her arms. “The answer is as simple as this: We steal the Treasure at the heart of this place.”

“Like...gold or somethin’?” Ryuji squats down to get eye level with Morgana. “How’s that supposed to bring this place down.”

Morgana shakes her head sadly. “Not a treasure. A Treasure. Listen for the capital letter, Ryuji. It’s a proper noun. The Treasure is a physical manifestation of whatever set the Palace ruler along this path, the source of their distortion and the thing that made their path branch out.” She gestures at the castle keep rising high above. “If I had to guess, it’s probably up there. Somewhere extremely secure, and since we started exploring this place in the dungeons and didn’t see anything my next guess would be up top. I can sense it...a little. If we explore the castle more I’ll be able to zero in on it.” She presses a hand to her heart. “In here, it’s like...a sixth sense.”

“So we take the Treasure, and everything that comes from it as a consequence goes?” Akira throws a pebble at the huge curtain wall. 

“Exactly. So here’s the plan: You, Ryuji, Lady Ann, and me infiltrate this place. We find a route to the treasure, make sure it is secured, and then we steal it right under King Kamoshida’s nose.” She gives a devilish grin.

“That sounds like a plan to me.” Akira produces his knife. “Ready to rock?”

Morgana nods. Ann nods. Ryuji hesitates for a second. “Not just yet, man. We gotta sort somethin’ out before we go in.” 

“What part? The plan seems pretty simple, the real trick being that we have to be stealthy and fast to actually do it.”

“The lies.” Ryuji leans on the alley wall. “You lied to me and Morgana about chasin’ Ann off, and then dragged her along pretty much all on your own call.”

Akira’s getting real sick of feeling guilty today. “I mean, I just felt-”

“You lied, man. Look, we’re goin’ into this together and I’m not really pissed at you, but that isn’t a good foundation for this.” A yellow gloved hand rests on his shoulder. “Before we go in, I want us to promise: No more lies or shit like this, not between us about _this_.” He loosely circles his finger to indicate the group. “If you felt like Ann was right, you should’ve said it then rather than try and trick her into coming.”

Morgana doesn’t say anything but nods along with Ryuji. Akira shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. I just...I guess everything that’s been happening this week, the fact I’m decent at lying is suddenly turning everything into a problem to be solved with one.”

He feels Ann’s slender hand on his other shoulder and gives a tiny squeeze. “I’m glad you got me here at least, even if maybe Ryuji’s right about the honesty thing.”

“How _are_ you so good at that shit too, man? You sell any effin’ lie with a straight face, and we’re still not in trouble for coming late the other day or anythin’.” Ryuji takes his hand back, serious face giving way to a smile.

“Honest answer? I’m from out in the sticks and when you’re a kid or teenager you have to make your own fun most weekends. And when you’re the quiet kid with a poker face, you become the excuse guy for where you all were if any parent catches you somewhere you shouldn’t be. The fact my mom’s an actual print journalist means that didn’t really work all that much, but maybe trying to get one over on her made me better.” Akira gives a predatory smile. “The secret is to mostly make it true, the less a lie there is the less people want to spend the effort disbelieving what’s right in front of them. Self deception is a major thing, but if you go too unbelievable or big they’ll still want to poke. Now come on, I can give you a lesson in lies later. We have a treasure to find, right?”

“Hell yeah! Let’s rock!” Ryuji pumps his fist and races for their infiltration point.

“Lady Ann, just please promise to keep back from the front lines, and if Akira or I tell you to do something, please do it immediately.” Morgana grits her teeth and follows him. “And you slow down, stupid monkey! I’m on point! You and Akira follow!”

Akira gives Ann one final glance, smiling broadly. “For Shiho. You’ll be great.” He races off with the girl taking a series of deep breaths, clenching her fists, and following.

\-------------------

Three phantoms and one carefully slinking tagalong enter the castle. Even days later their grate in and out hasn’t been spotted, though Ann’s inability to access whatever cognition based enhancements to her body that the other three have meant it isn’t as quick of an ingress point as it once was, Ann honestly takes longer to get in than Ryuji did coming the second time, before he had the Captain. She’s sorry she lacks a six foot vertical jump, but maybe you’re the ones wrong for assuming everyone coming into this place can pull off shit Olympic athletes do!

Ann keeps her promise, she sticks to the back and watches their rear though the task proves to be harder than she could have imagined. Morgana told her about Persona, some kind of literalized other self, and about shadows born from humanity’s heart. It was quite a different thing to see them in person, and when she first saw Akira make an impossible flying leap and rip the face of one of the guards off, in a spray of blood and thick black ichor, she’d have bolted if not for the screaming reminder in her heart that this was for Shiho. What kind of coward would she be to back out now?

So she steels herself, and watches in awe as the three of them make mincemeat of the shadows they encounter. The group moves methodically, one guard at a time, and destroy everything that comes from it before focusing on another. At one point she sees Akira talk with one of the wounded monsters, a Jack o’ Lantern headed specter and convinces it to join his mask. And then later, an impossible horned horse larger than any draft animal she’s seen before. Neither of the others seem to understand just what is happening here, but they welcome the power. She sees it too, the next battle after he forces the horse monster to join him, he calls on it just like the demon and fairy. And the fact that Morgana and Ryuji seem to be limited to ‘merely’ an impossibly barrel chested swashbuckler and skeletal pirate in their own blue flamed battle miasmas is hardly enough to quell the disquiet in her gut. None of this feels natural, the entire thing feels like an extremely lucid nightmare.

Still, she can’t deny the absurd majesty of it. Seeing one of them tear free their mask and summon a giant, burning with spectral flame, is unreal. Ryuji does it. Ryuji! Her stupid, asshole friend from middle school, who can only barely keep up at the high end prep school environment of Shujin Academy. Ryuji who she still isn’t sure understands why she was so mad and cut him off for a terribly timed few weeks in their first year. Stupid, forthright, and dopey Ryuji represented his deepest inner self with a kick ass pirate ghost. She had to take the time to process that later, because there was so much else happening too. 

The cartoon cat monster, badly hiding a crush on her which would be sweet if she was human but is off putting given she so patently is not despite any protestations to the contrary, is a dynamo when a fight breaks out. Armed with a giant blade and so damn fast and prone to jumping, it is a bit like watching an anime swashbuckler right up to the moment that blade mercilessly ends a fluttering fairy or horse or pumpkin monster in a spray of black ichor and scattering of yen coins (Which she notes Akira always takes the time to pick up. Is he broke?).

And then the transfer student. He’s spent a whole week being a mystery to her. She didn’t begrudge the dopey stare the first time they met, it was one of surprise she thought, rather than then gawking and leers she got around Shujin. She knew she stuck out in a group, and a Japanese kid from the countryside might have never actually seen anyone naturally blonde in their whole lives in person. Combine that with being half asleep and she sees where that was coming from. Not that she knew he was a transfer student at the time, but the stare wasn’t really hurtful. But then he shows up beat to hell later (And she has an answer for that riddle here too, at last!) and spends a week being a quiet enigma. She felt she might finally be beginning to understand him before this. He was closed off because he’d been hurt in a way she found hard to believe was allowed to happen, he and Shiho seemed to hit it off with an affinity both had ( _Have! Have!_ ) for quietly messing with people if the smile she saw on his face when she hit the library up at lunch the other day was any guide, and she was shocked how empathetic he seemed to be as they talked more. He didn’t need to help her before, listen to her story, or try and offer comfort. But he still did and more than anything else she felt like she was getting a sense of his character from it, from the arrest to what he’s been up to at Shujin.

So seeing the side of him that comes out in this castle is adding a new, uncomfortable angle to all this. Ryuji is and will always be Ryuji, and his aggressive nature here at least seems like a direct line between the person she knows and the insane fantasy world they’re trapped in, though seeing him shout and yell and fight monsters is a new filter for his charge first think later nature. Morgana she doesn’t really know well enough to say if she’s different here. But Kurusu moves through this place with a predatory grin on his face, knife and gun ready, a predator in black. He’s having fun here in a way the others really aren’t, and Ann sees it. He tries new one liners when he leaps on a knight to rip it’s face off in a sick spray of blood and darkness. She can tell he’s workshopping lines on the shadows when summoning his Persona, putting a new facade together in this world. And the delight on his face after negotiating one of the shadows into his mask or after the trio manage to turn a fight complete in their favor and descend on the creatures in a ripping frenzy of violence is just a bit too manic for her tastes. 

Ann is so busy trying to get a handle on Akira, Ryuji, and all of the madness happening around her that she forgets her job to watch the group’s rear. After all, the group is so methodical in clearing out Shadows via ambush and rapid brutality that there doesn’t seem to be a real need, and obsessing over the insanity in front of her is helping prevent her from obsessing over Shiho’s status. 

Her mistake. As she watches from behind the safety of a corner as the trio of fighters blast more shadows to ash, creepy imps with spiked codpieces the length of her arm because this place wasn’t freaky enough, an iron gauntlet clamps over her mouth and drags her off. 

“Got her! I don’t know what you were doing out of the seraglio, Princess, but we’d better get you back before the King notices!” 

\--------------------

Akira watches as the latest cluster of shadows they’d fought vanishes into ash and money before he gives a self satisfied smirk, going to scoop up their profits. “So Ryuji, this might actually be able to pay for lunch for us after Kasumi runs us into the ground tomorrow.”

“Still weird as hell they just drop money, but I ain’t gonna complain.” Ryuji rolls his shoulders and flexes his injured knee a bit. “Anyway, Morgana, you said that was a saferoom we passed just now? I’d not say no to gettin’ off my leg for five minutes or somethin’.”

“Yeah, you guys go sit down. I’ll go fetch Lady Ann.” She polishes her claws on her furry chest and struts off with a spark in her eyes.

“You gonna be the one to tell her she hasn’t got a pig’s chance in hell?” Ryuji lays his pipe across his shoulders and uses it to help stretch his back out.

“Okay, can we take a second to unpack the fact every idiom you use is wrong? Are you just bad at them or is someone teaching you this way?” Akira pushes the door to the safe room open, ignoring the odd feeling of the flickering castle door to classroom door under his hands.

“I thought there was one about pigs in hell?”

“You’re mixing a snowball’s chance in hell up with when pigs fly and-” Akira is cut off by a distant crash and a nearby scream from Morgana.

“She’s gone! She was just around this corner and she’s gone!” Morgana races back to them as a distant cry from Ann echoes their way.

“Help! Hey, assholes, heeeeeeeeeeelp!” Another crash. 

“No to rest then.” Ryuji bounces his leg for a few seconds. 

“A knight must have snuck up on her while we were fighting and took her somewhere! We have to go!” Morgana hops into action, turning and racing back the way she came with Ryuji and Akira falling in behind her.

The path back leads them through twisting halls and cleared out rooms they’ve been through already, but a heavy and spiked iron portcullis that had cut their path off down one hall before was now raised, the path clear. And decorative suits of armor that lined the gallery before were knocked over and vases full of roses scattered. Ann fought tooth and nail here, but not before. “She must have slipped out of their grips or something and tried to get a hold on anything.” Morgana leaps over the debris as Akira takes a moment to process the scene. 

“She’s a fighter then. You have a knack for finding that sort of person, Akira.” She makes it to the finely ornamented but very heavy looking iron door ahead of them, through which they hear Ann’s muffled voice still. 

“Yeah, she’s great an’ all, but we need to go guys.” Ryuji puts his hand on the heavy gilt handle and opens it.

The trio walk into a sea of women. Akira’s first instinct is to avert his eyes and immediately begin apologies, but he remembers where he is. Ryuji takes a long moment to recall that, but he eventually stops and looks too, and confusion and a bit of shame rapidly give way to anger.

There’s girls from his class in here. The one to his right from 2-D, whose name he really should learn, nude and writhing against someone whose face he doesn’t know, who is in a partial state of undress from the school’s gym uniform. Over there, a teacher. He recognizes Ms. Chouno, their English teacher, and there was Kawakami looking on them with empty doe eyes. Everyone of them mewling, blank eyed, writhing and grinding and hands all on each other. And as their group tries to pass through the field without stepping on anyone and eliciting a cry, their hands reach out for them too. Clawing, pawing, sticky sometimes too.

This chamber, with it’s high dome overhead, is lit with candles and there’s silk pillows lying across thick rugs everywhere, with silk hangings on all the walls where there aren’t displays of ‘art’ of Kamoshida in the nude or in the act of sex with some of the women in here. Most of them girls from the volleyball team. There’s incense in the air, a faint scent in the rest of the castle almost overwhelmingly cloying here and beneath it is a bitter tang that Akira’s probably only able to not identify because of his own lack of experience with women. 

Though given everything he is seeing right now, and having to shake the giggling zombie versions of his classmates and teachers off his arms and legs he might be getting some of the basic education right there. Ryuji is literally prodding them away with his pipe, and gives a grimace as a hand from one of the volleyball girls gets ahold of his face. He spits. “This is fuckin’ wrong, man. And now all I can taste is...” Well, maybe Ryuji had the experience he was lacking. 

Akira feels that same simmering, acidic hate again as he looks out over the crowd. “I guess we found out where the women were being kept, but where’s Ann?” The incense haze and bodies around them shift as Akira and Morgana push to the edge of the morass of women and that question is answered in about the worst way he could imagine. Morgana gives out a soft gasp and Akira readies his blade.

_Okay, yeah. I fucked up. Bad. I’m sorry Ann._ The scene before them, in the back of this cognitive harem, is rough. Ann is bound in iron manacles on a saltire cross. Legs forced wide and hands open, she’s facing the King himself, another of his gold plated knights, and the half nude simpering figure of her cognitive doppelganger. 

And the king has a knife in his hand which he is using to cut Ann out of her school uniform with a leer on his face. “You know I really don’t know how you could have assumed this was _my_ Princess, Captain. Just look at how defiant her eyes are!” Shadow Kamoshida chuckles to himself while the false Ann gives a falsetto giggle.

“I know, right? Like wow, what a bitch. Who rejects your love?” 

“You’re Kamoshida’s true self and _this_ weak shit is all you can manage?” Ann struggles in her bonds. “You really are pathetic.” She shoots the approaching group a look that is far more terrified than her words let on.

“A fine question my dear, but we’ll have her too soon enough. Far more merciful I think than just slicing her to ribbons, if you ask me.” The knife moves lower, the cut uniform top giving way as he moves to the skirt. And that is the last that Akira can stand to hear or see. A lone shot rings out, cratering a hole in the floor near the Shadow’s feet. The knight and false Ann whirl, with the latter stepping behind King Kamoshida and the former in front of him with shield raised.

“How dare you, miscreants!”

The King gives an annoyed huff, unconcerned by the weapon trained on him. “Ugh, you thieves again? I honestly thought we might have finally been rid of you. So, let me guess, you three are here just like you were earlier: Revenge about whatever her name was, self righteous puffing, and I guess you brought this one with you because she was just so distraught over the affair?” He flips the knife in his hand and holds it at Ann’s throat after giving it a slow drag up across her body. “I don’t think it needs to be said, you stay right where you are or Takamaki breathes her last. Yet another person you’ve managed to ruin today! Great job, criminal.”

Ann presses back and away from the knife point, flattening herself hard against the ornate cross. “I guess it’s nice to see this is proving everything I ever thought about you, you filthy bastard. How could you do this to anyone, let alone students?!” She glares at him as best she can even in the awkward position.

“How could I?” The King places a hand on his bare chest. “We all must take responsibility for our actions, Takamaki. Just like the other me was forced to explain to these delinquents earlier when informing them of their impending expulsions, none of this _had_ to happen.” He reaches a free hand up and cups her face, which turns into an iron grip when she tries to bite him. “After all, if you’d just done as you were told we’d never have had to make...well, whoever she was take your place.” He runs that hand down her neck, drifting lower. “Maybe we should fix that, shall we?”

Ann’s face drains of color as she realizes what he just admitted to, and Akira feels like he’s going to be sick. Ryuji is slower on the uptake, but he gets there. “Wait, he…”

“Shiho...I…” Ann sags in the restraints, life bleeding out of her and uncaring of where Kamoshida’s hand goes now. “I’m so sorry...this is my punishment isn’t it?” Tears glitter in her eyes.

“Like hell it is! Ann, don’t you let this fuckin’ creep get inside your head!” Ryuji slams his pipe against the knight’s shield, only making the huge figure stagger back slightly. 

“Remember what you said to me the other day?” Akira locks eyes with her as she glances up from the ground at the riot Ryuji is raising. _Come on, get angry. Remember. Do it, because the only one who can save you now is yourself._ He prays that this situation is going to play out in a way that doesn’t involve a corpse. Especially not after what happened with Shiho today.

Ann’s eyes harden and Akira swears he sees a flash of gold for the barest moment before he raises her head high and slams her face into the King’s. That’s what he gets for getting in her face. Shadow Kamoshida staggers back, clutching his nose and bleeding both blood and that black slime that the lesser shadows seem to be made out of. “You bitch!”

“Oh shut the hell up you pathetic creep! You know what, I am going to take responsibility for my actions. I’m an idiot, because I never had the fucking guts to tell you to step off like I should have! I’m an idiot for not trusting my best friend to be able to make it on the team on her own, and she’s an idiot for doing what she did just because a piece of slime like you decided to hurt her like that!” She strains as hard as she can against her restraints. Kamoshida’s golden eyes are wide, being met by Ann’s furious blue ones. “You’ve pissed me off you son of a bitch!”

“Kill her, damn it! Captain!” He glares at his knight and even strikes it once but the figure is transfixed. Just like when Ryuji woke to Captain Kidd, Akira realizes. They are shadows, only sort of individuals and not likely to get so enraptured or frightened as to lock up like this. Something is stopping them, he’s positive.

**“Sorry, my lord.”** A new voice joins the conversation, very much like Ann’s but just that bit darker, deeper, like velvet and the promise of a knife in the night. **“But I need to borrow her for a second.”** A third Ann has joined the group, this one dressed identically to the one on the cross, which she’s leaning against with absolute casual indifference. Identical to her in every way, even with the sliced open uniform, except for a pair of glowing gold eyes. **“I’m sure your goon can give us a moment.”** She reaches a hand out and gently touches Ann’s own hand, which elicits a cry of pain as Ann slumps forward like she’s just been entirely deboned, breathing fast and eyes freely streaming.

\------------------

Ann Takamaki is dying. She’s sure of it, the final climax of her short life was going to be a surreal sexual tableau with a rapist gym teacher, a new and old friend watching, a monster cat, and now apparently two versions of her. Her heart hammers so hard she feels like it is about to slam itself out of her chest and she can hear nothing but the roar of blood in her ears, her own cries, and the voice of her own Shadow. She feels like she’s burning up inside, a fire crackling in her chest cavity and searing flesh away and bones to cinders.

Her Shadow, her other self she never really believed existed when Morgana had explained the concept today, holds her head still even as the rest of her body writhes and strains against the cross. She holds her with both hands, golden eyes locked with Ann’s blue ones, the points of contact on the side of her body burning like her hands are coals. “ **You kept me waiting a long time, Ann.** ” Her forehead bumps against Ann’s own. “ **Forgiveness? Letting it go? This was never an option here, but for too long you held to your anger and never contemplated where I might lead you. But today, we are ready to act. Let us forge a contract.** ” 

The pain reaches its peak, and Ann struggles to hear her Shadow through the pain and blazing fury it was keeping stoked in her, but she mumbles some form of assent.

“ **Good. Let us begin.** ” The golden eyes blaze brightly and Ann shrieks. “ **I am thou. Thou art I. Who will avenge her, if not for us? You who have lived inside the borders others set for you in the name of fleeting, superficial acceptance, cast them aside. No hiding your passions or burying your fury, together we shall live our life to the fullest. After all, nothing is to be gained by restraining ourselves is there?** ” The Shadow fades away to nothing and Ann feels a mask settle on her face.

“I hear you, Carmen. No holding back.” Yes, as the pain in her body fades away, a name comes to her. Carmen the dancer. The mask fits neatly, but it has to come off. Every spot it touches is itching, raising to a bonfire of suffering. Those shackles at her wrists suddenly seem absolutely insignificant and with a burst of strength she can’t even understand her body possessing she wrenches first one hand free, then another.

Akira, Ryuji, and Morgana are watching this spectacle wide eyed. “Ryuji, when this happened with me you didn’t...see my Shadow right? I talked with him, but nothing like that.”

“Nuh-uh, dude. It was just like you had a seizure. Same with me?” Ryuji glances to his side and Akira gives him a small nod. “Morgana, what should we-”

Morgana watches as Ann raises a hand to her mask, the blonde girl’s eyes shining golden behind it with fury. “Maybe we should be further away than ten feet, just to be saf-”

“Come to me, my other self!” She tears the mask off in a spray of blood and sharp cry of pain. The blue fire rises like it has every time before and blasts Kamoshida, his cognitive doll, and knight flying. Maybe because they’re not her foes, but the trio of others are buffeted and staggered but remain closer to her. The writhing harem of cognitive Shujin students? Burned away like a mirage in sunlight. When the flames die down, Ann emerges with her Persona looming behind her and the first thing Akira can think of is that they’re going to somehow get sued by an American comics publisher for copyright infringement.

Skin tight, matte black leather body. Black thigh high boots with corset lacing. Cleavage window. Leather gloves with lacing similar to the boots that go up to her forearms in a deep _pink_ of all things. And wrapped in her hands is a black leather bullwhip. Pair that with the absent, so-deep-it-nears-black crimson half face mask that goes up to the top her forehead with the obvious stylized nose and ears of a cat and this would not look out of place in the pages of a certain publishing about a Dark Knight. Save of course the splash of color of the mask and gloves.

And behind her, a spectral pink skinned woman rises in a black and red flamenco dress with a belt of what appears to be live, giant roses and two withered homonculi wrapped in thorny rose vines at her feet. Her mask? Ann’s, but black and with pink leopard spots. Her hair, spiralling twin tails to match Ann. Her bodice? Torn wide open. 

“Holy shit.” Ryuji stares, and Akira realizes he is too. Then something neither of them expected happens, and the Persona stares right back at them, removes the cigar from her mouth and gives them a wink and the most provocative smile either have been subject to before. All while Ann is striding past them and unfurling her whip. Her gaze is leveled at Kamoshida, his doll Ann, and the knight still struggling upright. The trio fall in behind her, following Ann’s lead on this.

Without a word she pulls the whip taut in her hands and with a faint gesture from Carmen, it bursts into flames. With a wave of her arm and a deafening crack the fake Ann’s face is split wide open in a spray of blood, only for her to fade a moment later. “You’re next, asshole.” She levels her gaze at the panicking king who is protected by the knight.

“Run my liege, I’ll handle this rabble of rogues.” 

“Your sacrifice will be remembered!” Shadow Kamoshida, ever the coward, bolts while the golden knight seizes, lurches forwards and explodes into blood and sludge which congeals into the massive form of...a demon on a toilet.

“You know what?” Akira reaches for his mask. “I don’t even fucking care anymore. Toilet demon? Let’s do this.”

“Lady Ann, look out!” Morgana hops up to the battle line with Ryuji following on his heels. “That thing is stronger than you’d think and I fear-”

The demon roars and a far below subzero blast of frost bitten air rushes through the chamber. Akira and Ryuji are both pretty well dressed and still feel the shivers set in. Ann is...less so, and Morgana has fur. The two of them go from fine to looking like potential frostbite victims in no time. “Okay we’re doing this fast. Morgana, over under on what might hit this thing?”

“Fire!” The cat hops and shivers.

“How dare you! Thieves! Rebels! Reject King Kamoshida’s love, and then seek to destroy his harem?” The demon grumbles at them.

“Love?! Don’t make me laugh. That sick bastard only sees women as sexual outlets!” Ann cracks her flaming whip at the demon and it flinches. “I guess Morgana was right. Dance, Carmen!” And so she does, the giant spectral dancer spinning and whirling and from her hands comes twin balls of fire that impact on the demon like missiles, burning it’s flesh and eliciting roars of pain.

“Guess that proves that.” Akira tears free his mask. “Jack-’o-Lantern! Ravage him!” The pumpkin headed monster appears in a burst of blue fire and then from it’s lantern roars another inferno to sear the demon. It staggers under the onslaught, flying toilet monster or not, and sinks to the floor. “Everyone, lay into it!” 

Ryuji and Morgana take their chance here, pipe and scimitar hammering bones and rending flesh. “Captain Kidd, hammer ‘em!” Ryuji’s Persona joins them in a flare of energy, using the hull of it’s ship as a high speed battering ram before dissipating. And even still the demon doesn’t die. 

“Bit off more than you can chew, thieves?” It shakes its head and then vomits a bone aching, flesh hardening wave of cold onto them all. Akira and Ann both go down, his vision swimming and he loses track of the fight. He can’t..he can’t move. His ligaments or muscles or something are frozen or-or seizing up or something. He can’t move! And for long seconds, he can’t even gauge the true length, so he is trapped while the sounds of battle outside his unmoving, hazy reality carry on. Ryuji shouting, the sound of Captain Kidd’s lightning crashing, a sharp cry of pain from Ann. 

“No, no! Akira, get back up!” Something warm presses on his body and the cold begins to recede. He blinks the white haze away and finds Morgana holding him on his shoulder while she massages...something warm and vaguely menthol smelling onto his chest after actually tearing his vest open. 

“I’m-” He coughs and spits. “I’ll be fine. I can move.” He struggles to his feet. The battle’s gone on without him, Ryuji and Ann holding the demon off while Morgana tended to him. A fire burst from her, a thunderstrike from him, aiming to keep the ice blasting demon occupied. “Seems like this thing is halfway indestructible. Any suggestion?” 

Morgana draws her scimitar from the tiny belt pocket it resides in. “I have one, maybe. I’m going to need you and Lady Ann to try and cook the guy good though. Really push it, if your mental energy is up to the task still.” 

Akira takes a deep breath ( _That chest cream is actually really doing wonders for the sinuses, honestly_ ) and lets it out after taking a long moment to reach inside and commune with his menagerie of inner demons. “Yeah. I think I can.” He takes off without another word. “Ann! You and me, tag team it on Morgana’s mark. Ryuji, keep it busy!”

“Can do!” Ryuji only seems lightly frosted, and is having the time of his life swinging that pipe and conjuring the Captain to rain lightning on the demon. Akira joins with Ann, who is not looking a lot better than he feels and races around the edge of the room to circle behind the demon while Morgana moves to flank it. She has angry red patches of skin on her face and exposed chest that Akira vaguely recognizes as an early precursor to true frostbite and that is only on the flesh he can see.

“You doing alright?” He brushes ice off himself and eyes Morgana for the signal. 

“Oh you know, could do without the frostbite but this…” Ann clutches the whip which reignites. Without her tearing her reformed mask away to summon Carmen, Akira notes. “I can get used to this. I feel so fucking strong. Like I can take on the world and finish a double order of cream filled crepes. Oooh, with bananas too.” That gets a flat stare from Akira. “Shut up, I’m starving and didn’t eat lunch because of checking Shiho in to the hospital and coming back to school. You owe me for sucking me into an alternate dimension without any warning, Akira Kurusu.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to buy you those crepes sometime. Just after I get a job, please.” Morgana waves at them from the distance as she finally slips the demon’s gaze. “Work time now though. On three, we charge and light him up.” She nods, he counts, and then they move.

Carmen is a bit more spectacular than the impish pumpkin sprite he summons, being an eight foot tall icon of human folklore like the rest of the Personas of the group does that, but as Akira pours his mental energy into the cackling little guy’s lantern he can’t deny that the results are pretty damn great still. The duo vomit flame in a continuous wave on the toilet bound demon which roars in pain and fury, whirling to bring it’s frost breath on them after failing to drop Ryuji with it. The punk was tough as hell, and gave as good as he got, hammering the demon until it’s porcelain throne was cracking under it and it’s eye caved in.

The flame is met by a cutting hurricane gale from Zorro, Morgana pouring every bit of herself into this as well, and the conflagration goes from bonfire to wildfire as she fans the flames. The demon roars one last time and then is gone, ash in the wind. The room’s temperature returns to normal, though the many silks and fine rugs were ruined by the fighting. Akira doesn’t hesitate to rush the small yen pile in the ash either. 

“Hey, Ann, this might actually be enough to cover that crepe you were talking about.” He pockets the bills and coins, turning back to her with a smile just in time to see her wobble on her feet and collapse to her knees. “Oh, shit. Yeah.” He and Ryuji race to her side.

“Why am I so tired?” She wobbles, even with her arms around both of them.

“It’s wakin’ up your Persona. Takes it out of everyone. Well, me and you I guess. Akira managed to make it through an escape from the castle and part of a school day before he went home. But yours seemed kinda’, uh, intense.” Ryuji dodges talking about some of the things they all just learned. There’d be time to process that later. Maybe over ramen.

“It was pure desperation, I promise you. Morgana, we’re going back.” Akira steadies Ann and takes the first tentative steps with their newest team member between them. 

“Yeah, for the best. I think we need to have a group meeting before we part ways for the day, back safe on the far side. Today we went in half cocked in a lot of ways, and Lady Ann almost paid for it. And us as well, this situation could have been worse and should have been avoidable. I have some ideas to run down with you all.”

Akira nods. Shiho’s jump and Ann’s capture today both struck him as the result of not thinking different things through, though he knows he’s probably no right to allow himself to even shoulder blame for the former. It’s pure narcissism thinking he’d have had a hand one way or another, especially knowing what he does now, but the guilt still sits heavy on his conscience. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Ann, Ryuji?”

He gets a weak nod from her and a scowl from Ryuji. “Yeah, we gotta sort some shit out before we try this again. We rushed in, and that was the stupidest thing we could’ve done.”

Four phantoms slowly but invisibly make their way out of the castle. The world ripples and warps, and the golden light of late afternoon greets them in the real world, one ordeal finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, before any other actual notes, how about them Strikers huh? I'm glad that came out before I wrote this chapter, because Ann's fire whip was such a great idea I'd never have thought up on my own.
> 
> But going on! Another entirely arbitrary change here. I'm sure we've all seen different outfit fanart for Ann, from the less sexualized sort to the more. I saw, and could have sworn I saved, one really cool piece that was a more black version of her outfit with some reduced shine and heels that look more workable than her usual ones. It was amazing, it really combined the 'look, she's Catwoman' cat burglar and dominatrix vibes with her outfit. So I thought that'd be neat to drop her into that outfit in this fic, why not, include a link to it in the notes.
> 
> Except I was an idiot and didn't save it, so hell if I'll ever see it again. Oops.
> 
> Other than that, this chapter is the last extremely heavy content chapter for a little bit. The next one is going to be honestly minuscule, there's a scene of connective tissue I wanted after the palace but before the next larger chapter that I half wrote and realized it kind of was clunky to end this chapter with it. I'll probably expand it a bit and drop it as a smaller standalone chapter. Give my poor brain a break and all.
> 
> This chapter has some stuff that's definitely new for me. Kamoshida's half naked cognitive volleyball girls got expanded and made worse here, the very clear sexual aggression and I hope believable amounts of anger and disgust, and getting into Ann's head were all I think within the thematic scope I've been playing with (lots of focus on the internal takes and reactions of the cast, etc) but also new ground writing. I'm hoping it comes across as actually skeevy from Kamoshida, since it's definitely meant to be the former. This chapter is something I knew would be coming and I'd be trying to write it like this, which is why I actually tagged this fic as M in the first place. There'll be moments to come as well in later arcs as well that'll try to be unfliching but not unduly explicit as well, maybe I'll be a better writer by then too.
> 
> But that's all my off the cuff thoughts on this. Thanks for reading all who come here, any feedback or comments are welcome and appreciated if you've got one.
> 
> Edit 03/04/21: haha guess who just remembered we moved the code name conversation to after this palace visit so as to just do all four of the original thieves at once and then didn't catch all the times we used Joker in the original chapter draft? This guy. Fixed now


	14. To Fail to Prepare is to Prepare to Fail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which preparations are made.

04/15/20XX

Friday

Afternoon

Aoyoma-Itchome Station

Ann wanted to sleep, honestly. She was barely able to walk out of the metaverse even with support, and took a long few minutes catching her breath while sitting against the wall of the alley when they returned to Shujin to stand up again. But the cat monster, Morgana, returned to ‘mere’ cat form wasn’t wrong. They had to talk about what just happened, and she needed something to distract her from thoughts looping around and around on what the insufferable Shadow Kamoshida had said to her. So the group relocates to a quiet corner at the far end of the subway station near their school and set up their little group far away from prying ears of the many Shujin students still milling about.

She sips on the carbonated lemonade Ryuji got her out of a vending machine and tries her best to look like she has it together, even while all she wants to do is stuff her face with every hidden sweet in her apartment and maybe something ‘real food’ enough to have protein in it, and sleep for a dozen hours. Akira looks as unruffled as ever, his face that dead blank he wears in class most of the time and when trying to lie or bottle himself up internally, and Ryuji is chugging the drink he got for himself with wild abandon. “So, Morgana, what did we need to cover? You’re the expert here, right?” She gives the small black cat her most winning smile.

“Perceptive as ever, Lady Ann.” She preens herself on the bench next to Akira. “Today was almost a disaster. We all rushed this without proper planning or supplies, and people were almost hurt.”

“I was literally frozen still for like ten seconds.” Akira shivers.

“I had a creepy rapist king cut my uniform open and I think I have some frost burns.” Ann unzips her hoodie just enough to show the red skin patches and show the top of the cut on her uniform top before closing it back up again.

“Okay, people were almost hurt unto death or medical care, give me some room to not be exacting!” Morgana huffs and puffs her fur up. “The point is we need to plan better: We need weapons. Akira, your gun in there was a model that Ryuji bought right? Well, why don’t you all go armed? And then we need medical supplies.”

“Like whatever you rubbed on me that literally restored me to life from a hell of being a frozen statue?” Akira leans forward, smiling a bit even if his eyes are hidden by glare on his glasses.

“Yeah, that was just a basic topical cream I stole from a girl’s desk the other day when I was stuck at school all night. For burns both hot and cold, but in the metaverse the power of medicine is heightened by our cognitions trusting it to make us feel better. Or in this case, mine that it would help you.” Morgana is back to looking as smug as a cat possibly can, which is very, and Ann’s mind is lighting up.

“So if we bring painkillers, or even a drink with caffeine in it or something along with us... “ She ventures.

“We can help dull or even heal injuries, just like I can do with Zorro, and give energy to get ourselves going just that little bit further if our mental and physical energy is bottoming out.” She nods.

“Well, I don’t really want to turn this into a stimulant problem like half the models I work with, but this is talking caffeine and over the counter aspirin and the like, right?” She scratches Morgana under her chin to get the cat’s blue eyes to lock with her own.

“Y-yeah, though of course more powerful stuff from the real world would work better. We don’t need to like, raid a hospital or anything of course!” Morgana would be blushing red if she had skin.

“I might have an idea for that.” Akira speaks up. “Ryuji, I’ll need you on Sunday.”

“For real? Sure, I’m in! And tomorrow the airsoft store isn’t that far off from the station. We could hit it up before or after we hit the gym with Sumi-chan. Ann, you wanna come with?” Ryuji lights up.

“What the gym or shoppi-Actually no.” She shakes her head, feeling like an idiot for forgetting. “I’m going to go see Shiho at the hospital after we get out of class. Akira, I trust you to buy me something cool.” She shoots him a sharp glare that collapses into a snort of laughter as he replies with the most solemn of nods.

“This plan gives us a couple of days to rest and recuperate. Ryuji, Akira, don’t think I didn’t see you dragging a bit still from injuries from Monday. And Ryuji, if you push that knee too hard in one day it’s going to go out on you.” Morgana chides them both a bit more harshly than she really intends, but she also found herself in greater distress when contemplating any of this little group getting injured today so really it is their fault for making her worry, you know?

“Before we split though, I got a question for you Ann.” Ryuji’s face sets into a serious mask even as he stands and stretches his leg out.

“No, you can’t ask about my suit. I don’t know why my vision of inner rebellion is fetish gear by way of a Batman villain.” She huffs.

“Th-that wasn’t gonna be it at all!” Ryuji’s eyes go wide.

“Then no, you can’t ask about Carmen’s breasts or why they’re out or anything else about them-”

“Holy effin’ _shit_ , Ann! Who do you think I am?!” Ryuji is blushing furiously. Akira is trying to keep up his poker face but is snorting quietly too.

“You’re Ryuji Sakamoto, and we both know that you usually talk before you think. Remember that time you told Shiho that her giant hands would actually help her a lot if she wanted to play volleyball?” Ann crosses her arms.

“That was two years ago! An’ I was right, wasn’t I? Which, uh, in retrospect...my mistake for even suggestin’ that.” His expression falls, bantering anger bleeding away to nothing.

“That wasn’t exactly only your influence. She likes sports and was good at it.” Ann shrugs, even though this is bringing up a whole host of guilty memories on her part too. Time to bury those for a few more hours! “The point is, that’s not something you say to a girl! So what _was_ the question you had for me today?” She sips her lemonade, watching him squirm a bit. She’s going to have to admit, she’s missed him. A lot, more than she thought she did if she was having this much fun with him after a nightmare like today. But God could he put foot in mouth, and squirm at the slightest pressure.

Ryuji shuffles his feet. “Well now I feel bad for askin’, because you’re gonna take it the wrong way.”

She sighs. “Ryuji…”

“Fine. All those women today, Kamoshida’s fucked up mental harem. Most of them were nude. You’re the only one who has shared a locker room with any of ‘em, were they...you know...accurate?”

She lights up, hot anger burning. “ _Ryuji_! What the fuck?!” She raises a hand, ready to slap him, when Akira’s hand comes up to rest on her wrist.

“No, not what he was thinking of. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this either: If any of them were accurate, how would Kamoshida know?” His eyes are hidden behind the glare of his glasses and Ann feels an ounce of that personality he let out in the castle slip here, the intense one.

That throws a cold bucket of ice on that anger. “Oh. Oh! Oh my God, you’re right. Sayako, from our class. I saw her in there.” She turns to Akira. “Sayako Takada, she sits to your right. The one you shared books with on Monday?” He nods. “She has a birthmark she’s kind of insecure about.” Ann taps herself below the swell of her breasts, right on a rib. “Right here, bottomside of the breasts and right on a rib. She was in that harem, but there’s no chance anyone could see that unless you see her getting changed. Most bras would partially cover it, even if you somehow saw her in one, and with one off...I mean not to get too explicit here but it’d be hard to see. But it was accurate on her.”

“You got a good look then?” Ryuji comes up closer to their huddle, lowering his voice.

“What do you mean by that?! I wasn’t staring at them, but when I was first dragged in she was trying to climb on me till the knight shoved her off!” Ann glares at him.

“I think what Ryuji meant, Lady Ann, was to verify the fact it matched.” Morgana hops up on Akira’s shoulders.

“Yeah, that. An’ what I’m gettin’ at is how does Kamoshida know to make it right?” Ryuji grinds his teeth, glaring at nothing.

“...Let’s get a move on this infiltration, guys. Before too many more classes come and go, because if he isn’t spying on the girl’s locker room I don’t know how he knows that and if we don’t have any proof or way to find it we can’t even do anything about it.” Ann shivers, feeling a disgusting feeling crawl up her back. She needs a shower, pronto.

“Agreed. Catch you tomorrow?” Akira gives Ryuji a querying gaze.

“Nah, we ain’t done with Ann yet.” Ryuji offers her a genuine smile. “Sorry for that heavy shit, but if you’ll let me I’ll make it up to you. You’re feeling half dead and wantin’ to sleep, right?”

“Yeah, you have the experience there.” She shivers. “And now I want a shower after that, on top of the manhandling at the palace.” She sniffs a discolored spot on her hoodie sleeve and grimaces. _God, it even smells right despite being a cognitive...residue_. 

“You’ll feel a thousand times better if you have somethin’ to eat first. Me and Akira did beef bowls after I had this happen, let’s get you something. A...reward. Or consolation? Somethin’ good after a crazy day.”

She’s about to protest when her stomach makes an audible grumble and Akira snorts with quiet laughter. “You know what? If you’re paying, I’m eating.” She hefts her bag.

Akira gives the cat an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Morgana. Into the bag for a bit.”

“Wait! One last thing, before I have to squeeze in for a bit!” Morgana holds up a paw. 

Ann checks the time on her phone. “Yeah, we’ve got another minute or two till the train gets here. What’s the last thing?”

“Code names!” Morgana rests two paws on Akira’s head to heft up and make herself the tallest thing in the group. Despite their distance from most of the other Shujin students, a few people notice that. One girl snaps a picture of the delinquent being manhandled by a cat and returns to her conversation with a friend.

“Well, that’s undignified.” Akira is nonplussed.

“Silence, daias! Either way, the point…” Morgana trails off for a moment. “Oh. Yeah. The point is, if we’re doing this we’re doing it right. Weapons, equipment, a plan...and code names. We’re phantom thieves, modern gentlemen and women possessed of style and panache. Or at least three fourths of us are, verdict is out on Ryuji.” 

“Hey!”

“And what kind of thieves go about calling each other their real names on a heist? Also, Kamoshida knows each of you personally, there’s really no telling what screaming your names in his Palace might do. Might be nothing, might make him more suspicious of you in school, might make his Shadow more wary in the castle. So, a little homework assignment over the weekend: Think up whatever you want to be called, we’ll share it going in next time and try to KEEP to them in the castle. Got it, Ryuji?” She smirks down at him.

“Skull.” He crosses his arms and stares right back at Morgana. 

“...Huh, that was fast. Not bad though.” Morgana hops off Akira’s shoulder to his bag. “Akira and I will workshop ours over the weekend. Now I believe there was mention of beef bowl? Can you figure some way to slip me some in here?”

Akira reaches into the bag and ruffles her head. “Yeah, sure. You deserve new team member dinner too” The train at last pulls into the station and the trio embark.

\-----------------------------

04/15/20XX

Friday

Night

Yongen-Jaya

The sun is setting, but not quite dark of night, when Akira makes it back to Leblanc. Sojiro is just seeing off a man in his thirties, who is raving about the quality of the Blue Mountain bean in today’s house blend. When the bell jingles shut behind him Sojiro gives a long suffering sigh. “Pompous ass, that wasn’t even part of the blend today.” He gives Akira a glance over his own glasses as Akira heads to the stairs. “Not quite that fast, kid. We’ve gotta talk.”

Akira comes to a halt and places his bag down on a booth before returning to the counter. “Problem, Boss?”

“I got a call from your school today about the early release. A ‘student incident’. What happened?”

Akira bites his lip, not really wanting to get into it but he _was_ being asked…”Suicide attempt.”

Sojiro’s eyes widen. “Damn, kid.” He scrutinizes Akira’s face. “You look pretty shook up by your standards. Surprised you didn’t just come home. What happened, did you see it?”

“I can say my date tomorrow is off because of it. If you get me.” His eyes are hiding behind those damn glasses again too, Sojiro notes. He thought he’d decided to forgo them today when leaving too.

“...Sit down.” Sojiro bustles behind the counter.

“I ate with friends this afternoon, you don’t need to worry about me tonight. I just want to do my homework then sleep, if that’s alright.” Akira glances to his bag somewhat nervously. _There it is_ , Sojiro thinks.

“I’m not quite done with you today though, and after a bomb like that and how you’re looking unsteady on your feet I think you deserve at least a cup on the house.” Sojiro gives the kid a firm stare. Not really an authoritative glare, but the best dad stare he’s been able to work out with Futaba. 

“...Alright. Thanks.” Akira slides into a seat at the bar. “So if it isn’t Blue Mountain, what’s in the blend today?”

“Hawaiian Kona, a 15% mix, Guatamalan SHB and Mocha Harrar. If that guy couldn’t pick the Harrar or SHB in that blend he’s just talking out his ass.” Sojiro smiles and slides the cup to Akira, who he notes sips at it black. “I could use a hand around here sometimes, if you want to earn you keep you can clean dishes and sweep in the evenings some nights and if you pay attention you might just learn something about coffee.”

“Offering to teach me your secrets, Boss?”

“Only a few. The ability to brew a really great cup on your own is something I can say will make you more than a little popular. Might help with the women, at least.” Sojiro leans against his bean wall.

That rings a bell in Akira’s mind, one of the many things on his to do list. He holds the cup in his hands and levels his gaze with Sojiro’s. “I had actually been meaning to ask you about a job. I know you are housing me, I wasn’t going to ask for pay, but I figured I’d need your permission before I started applying around elsewhere in case a shift runs late or something. Everything in this city costs money and my funds are starting to evaporate.” Akira sips his cup, trying to pick through the beans in the blend. He knew vaguely the Harrar was supposed to have some kind of fruit notes in the acid, and the Kona was supposed to be rich undertones…

“Work for me next week and prove you can be reliable and we’ll talk about a key to this place for you. Until then you’ll just have to hold onto your yen or borrow off friends.” Sojiro turns the gruffness up, but Akira knows a lifeline when he sees it. 

“Sure. You said helping deal with the dinner customers and close out?” He sits up straight.

“Yes, so you can still waste time with your friends some days. But don’t slack off on your studying either. If you blow your midterms, any privileges are subject to sudden reversal.”

“Understood, Boss. That it?” Akira sips the still too hot drink, and thinks he has finally isolated the Harrar notes.

“Well, I also want to ask about the cat.” Sojiro reaches under the counter and produces the discarded can of flaked fish that Akira had gotten for Morgana last night. “And don’t bother to deny it, I also found black hair about an inch long that wasn’t yours, mine or another customer’s.”

Akira feels his gut sink again, one of too many times today. He’d completely forgotten he’d just thrown that into the waste basket in his attic and then sent Sojiro up there for Futaba’s equipment earlier. No lie or clever half truth comes to mind either, so he manages to barely squeak out a plea. “Please don’t send Morgana to the shelter.”

Sojiro sighs. “Of course you already named it...look, this is a restaurant. We can’t have an animal running around wild all over it. Where did you stash it today then?”

“My school bag.” Akira sighs.

“And you’ve just been carrying it around all day?!” Sojiro’s eyes widen. “Let it out!” 

Akira hastens to do so, and Morgana is shaking herself like a dog when she slips out. She hops onto the counter and races up to Sojiro, meowing plaintively.

“Oh don’t you try sweet talking him, that’ll just get us both in trouble!” The kid glares at the black and white cat as she nuzzles up on Sojiro’s hand.

“Oh, don’t be like that. She just is stir crazy from being in a bag all day. You never had a pet before? A real vocal one at that.” Sojiro scratches at the cat’s chin as she lets out another series of meows. “Already named her too?”

“I found her abandoned yesterday. I couldn’t just leave her.” Akira doesn’t even seem to be lying about this. “But I knew you’d probably not want a cat here…”

“I can’t have a cat here. Health code reasons.” The cat meows and licks his hand. “But...well, maybe taking care of an animal would help keep you in line. Can’t take care of a cat from juvie, right?”

Another lifeline. Akira nods. “Yeah, and I think I’d rather take another beating than let anything happen to her.”

Sojiro pets the cat on her sleek back. “Fine. If you can control it, keep her from the cafe during open hours, and take good care of a litterbox and feeding, you can keep it.”

The kid visibly relaxes. “Thanks, Boss. Seriously.” He reaches out and pets the cat too which chatters at him extensively. “Yeah, I know.” He sips his coffee more.

“Talkative one, that one.” Sojiro laughs.

“She is. Anyway, thanks for the coffee. I think I just want to get my homework done and sleep though. That caffeine hit should help, though.” Akira picks the cat up and places her right on his shoulders, where she stands perfectly primly to Sojiro’s own surprise. 

“Of course. I’ll lock up in a bit, the same drill as every night. If you leave, just to the baths and back. Lock up if you unlock the doors, so on. And make sure you have everything the cat needs.”

Akira bounds up the stairs with way more energy than he came into the store with. “Can do! Thanks, Boss!” 

Sojiro snorts. “Teenagers. No off switch for long.” Still though, the kid is proving to be a good one this week. If he can keep his nose clean and take care of that cat for a while, maybe he’d even pass along his actual apology to Futaba. Maybe someone her own age could get her out of her shell a bit.

\-------------------

Morgana has Akira clean off the cluttered work bench before he even gets a chance to crack open his books and work on the math problems he has to hand in to Ms. Usami tomorrow. “You’ll thank me later. I did a check last night of assorted raw materials lying around here and the actual tools on the bench, and I think I can earn my rent by teaching you how to work them.”

“Earn...rent?” Akira coughs up another lungful of dust as he moves several book stacks elsewhere in the room.

“Well, I don’t expect to stay here and eat for free! But I can’t get a job like this to pay you or anything. Or the chief, who was so kind when you blundered into letting him find out about me.” Morgana is grooming herself on his bed while Akira works. “So what’s the next best thing? Since you’re a budding phantom thief, I can teach you how to make and use a variety of thieve’s tools. Lockpicks, smoke bombs, distractions, flashes, the works. We can start tomorrow, you _do_ have homework tonight after all.”

“Which would be awesome if I could start, then sleep and try to forget the horrible things I learned today for a couple hours.” Akira blows dust off another book. _Advanced Theories of Cognitive Psychology and the Collective Unconscious in a Modern Context_ looks well loved, to say the least.

“Work now saves you work later. And when you put that down, I want you to come look at this.” Morgana is pawing at something on the window sill now.

“What, some cards?” Akira just drops the book on a shelf without ceremony and comes to examine whatever Morgana has found and finds...a tarot deck. All suits of the minor arcana and major arcana represented. Except the major arcana are as they were in his dream. He flips through them rapidly to confirm, disbelief more than anything else setting in.

On the card of The Chariot, there’s Ryuji staring up at him.

On The Magician, there’s Morgana sitting atop the work bench in this very room. That’s new. Akira doesn’t like that, that wasn’t part of his dream in the Velvet Room. He flips through more cards, trying to find another one showing a person he knows. For a time, none do, but then he comes to one and sees it change as he stares down at it.

The Tower, displaying Shiho Suzui tumbling down from a tower that is clearly evocative of Shujin’s classroom buildings, a fire blazing at the top. 

“Those sick sons of bitches.” Akira immediately flashes to Igor and the violent twin wardens. He isn’t sure they had anything to do with this, but they’re the only explanatory link he can think of and either someone knew what was going to happen here...or the card changed. Did it change after he and Shiho had struck up their friendship? Was she always depicted like this? He can’t go back in time to check, so he is just left with his own anxieties in this case.

“What?” Morgana hops onto his shoulders. “What’s the-Oh dear. Is that…?”

“Yes. Yes it is.” Akira folds the card back into the deck. 

“I saw these cards here last night. Before she jumped. What does that mean?”

“I think it means she’s a contractor now.” Akira turns his memory back to the hazy confrontation in the Velvet Room before. “Someone I’m supposed to...actually no, this is a really, really weird train of thought. Clean, homework, sleep. You going to be okay with the same dinner again?” Akira goes to his new small cat food stash. 

“As long as you agree to share a bite of that heavenly smelling curry if you reheat any, I think I’ll make do.” She hops off his shoulder to the spot he sets the can down at, digging in.

“A small bite, at first. I know you’re not a cat, but your form is one and I don’t want to accidentally poison you or anything. The fact you can work a toilet is a godsend, but I promise you as a human who has had intestinal distress before: You do not want to be stuck sitting there in pain for hours.”

“I-ah, I’ll have to take your word for that.” Morgana lifts her head from her tuna based feast. “But thanks for the concern.”

Akira, folding out his absurd calculus homework of the night, gives a short laugh. “I promise you, Morgana, if someone can’t have empathy for someone trying to shit their soul out that person is a monster and you should check them immediately for a palace.”

“Noted. But...are you alright? After today? It seems like a lot of what happened shook you all.” She takes a bite of her fish and swallows while Akira thinks. Very hard, if she had to judge the tilt of his head and flash of his glasses.

“Not really. I’m just...bottling it up and hoping to work it out in Kamoshida’s castle. He’s a piece of shit and really hurt one of the first people I made friends with here. Maybe the second one who actually knew my record too.” He glares down at the numbers on his paper, as if that will somehow remove the guilt.

“Akira, if you ever need a hand or anyone to confide in, I’m willing to listen. You don’t need to choke everything up as hard as you do.” Morgana is among his homework now, staring right up at him with big blue eyes.

“I know.” He sighs. “Today is just a bad day for a lot of people. Shiho is hurt and in a coma, and Ann and Ryuji have both been badly hurt here, the volleyball team, me...It is just…” Akira struggles for the words needed here. “A lot to process.”

Morgana purrs and runs against one of his hands. Just once, but enough to convey a sort of social intimacy. “If you need to, talk to me. I’ll leave you to your work though.” She hops away and goes to his bed to resume self grooming or take a nap of some sort. Akira returns to what is in front of him, using work to drive out the visions.

That night, he doesn’t dream of the Velvet Room, and in fact barely sleeps. He stares at the vaulted ceiling of his attic cell, and hates. He hates Kamoshida, for how he hurt Shiho Suzui and forced her to the point she saw no way out but a walk on the air to cleanse the pain or violation or gods know what.

He loathes the bald bastard who got him sent here, ruining his life because he wasn’t strong enough to face his own weaknesses and sins. He hates the woman too, for a while, who caved to the bastard and got him sent here.

He resents a lot of things. His old friends, Megumi and Takao rising to the top of the list for just how hard it hurt when they cut him off after his arrest. Mishima, who leaked his record out at Kamoshida’s request. He resents himself for being unable to do anything about any of this besides punch Mishima on the nose. He resents himself for the lack of control there too, hurting the guy who had obviously been used.

And he misses things. He misses his friends, despite it all. Takao’s stupid smile after they both got in trouble. Megumi’s smaller grin when the two of them evaded trouble by the skin of their teeth, or when she beat him in some test of athleticism. He misses his sister, his parents, his instruments back home and his computer setup with microphones and mixing software and the ability to actually channel bad moods into noise of some sort.

And at the end of the day, he hates himself for so many personal resentments while other people were suffering so damn hard.

That night, Akira goes to sleep dreaming of pain and pain consumes his dreams, But it gives him focus the next day as he awakes and prepares for class, the first of their two big preparation days. 

Time to get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much to say here, just finally hitting a few interlude points I'd been hoping to get to finally and setting up coming chapters. Shortest chapter in a bit, but glad I got it out now since I have some family commitments coming up this weekend that'll curtail my ability to do anything. As ever, hope any and all readers enjoyed, comments and critiques are welcome as ever


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